


Come A Little Closer

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bisexual Harry Potter, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Draco in the Muggle World, Drinking, First Time, Frottage, Gay Draco Malfoy, Grimmauld Place, Homophobic Language, Injury, Internalized Homophobia, Kayaking, Kid Fic, Kings Cross, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Sex Toys, Snogging, Virginity, gay!draco, magical museums, redeemed!Draco, slight angst, unusual careers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: A few years after the war, Draco Malfoy works the service desk at King’s Cross and does his best to avoid his parents. He is also desperate to lose his virginity. Enter Harry Potter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleblackbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/gifts).

> Written for the Trope "First Time" for the 2019 H/D Tropes Exchange Fest
> 
> An enormous thanks to my beta, R! This fic is stronger because of your great attention to detail. Littleblackbow, it was a pleasure to write for you! I tried to include many of your likes!

Draco Malfoy saw many horrors working the service desk at King’s Cross. He worked the magical desk, not the Muggle. He was sure he’d AK himself if he had to _service_ Muggles. 

These horrors ranged from lost children to hot pink robes trimmed with _faux_ dragon skin.

He liked customer service. He liked his tailored robes and his gleaming name tag. He liked eating his packed lunch with the other sad sods who worked at the station. 

Most of all, he liked his _independence_. He didn’t answer his father’s owls and he only saw his mum on Sundays. He hadn’t been back to the Manor in two years, not even for holidays.

Living on his own was _great_. He had his own flat, which was barely bigger than a cupboard, and some of his neighbours were even _Muggles_. He cooked for himself. He tried to shop at only magical grocers, but Tesco was very exciting. He ate too many mini cheddars.

He wasn’t making much money, but that was okay. He didn’t need much, and he was mates with his favourite tailor. Sometimes he Confunded the lad at the cinema so he could get in for free.

The day Potter lost his glasses, Draco was training a new staff member for weekends and early mornings. He had enough seniority to refuse to work Saturday and Sunday, and the old weekend bloke had gone off to Healer training. 

The new bloke was small and mousy, and reminded Draco of a terrified gerbil. 

“You needn’t be so nervous,” Draco said. “I’ve only been cursed twelve times.”

“Twelve?” 

“Yeah, and I haven’t even lost any of my fingers yet. There was a close call a few months back, but the Healers were able to reattach my thumb.”

“Your _thumb_? What happened?”

Draco shook his head solemnly. “I said ‘no’ to an angry nan. She sicced her false teeth on me.”

Another reason why Draco liked working the desk was all the opportunities he had to people watch. Especially the Muggles. Especially Muggle men, who didn’t wear dreary robes that hid their fantastic arses. They wore a lot of jeans and trousers, the fabric _glued_ to their muscular cheeks. 

Currently, there was a lovely man in a turban with pretty eyes right in front of Draco. He was talking on his hand thing, pacing, and Draco zeroed in on his crotch, hoping to see his prick move with his steps. 

The man couldn’t see Draco, but Draco could definitely see him. 

“What you looking at?” said Tim, the new bloke.

“What are those hand things called, again?”

“Hand what?”

“People keep telling me and I keep forgetting . . .” Draco tapped his long fingers on the desk. “Right. The next thing we must talk about is Lost and Found. We get a lot of it.”

“Really?” Tim pushed up his glasses, which were so large they brushed his greasy fringe. 

“Come with me.”

They walked into the back room and Draco waved his wand. A door popped open and a tsunami of rubbish spilled out. There were dirty trainers and oily combs; there were purses and wallets and wands. There was jewellery, loads of jewellery, and management had no idea what to do with any of it. 

“Wow,” Tim said.

“Yeah.”

“What happens when the room fills up?”

“It doesn’t.”

“There’s a charm?”

“Yes. I’m sure there are things from 1899 in there.”

“Wow.”

Someone rang the bell on the desk. Draco rushed out to help them and stopped. 

“Potter,” he growled. 

Tim nearly fainted. “It’s _Harry Potter_.”

Draco couldn’t decide how he wanted to act. Pretend not to know Potter, or play up his villainy? Decisions, decisions. 

“I didn’t know you worked here, Malfoy.” Potter blinked at him, his eyes naked. They looked too big without his glasses, too alien. 

“I don’t,” Draco said. “I’m just visiting.”

“That’s not what your name tag says.”

“You’ve learned your letters. Very good.”

Something flickered in Potter’s gaze. “I’m here about my glasses. I left them by the sink in the toilet. Do you have them?”

Draco looked at Tim. “Go look for them in the room.”

“How?”

“_Dig_, obviously.”

Tim was aghast. “But you just said that room is endless!”

“Use your brains, man. I’m not sure you’ve got them, but I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Draco sighed. “If you don’t see Potter’s ghastly glasses on top, then _Accio_ them.”

“Oh. Right.” Tim dashed to the back. 

Draco and Potter stared at one another. Draco felt such a strong rush of dislike that his vision blurred. The bloody scarhead had turned out _fit_, stupidly, unbelievably fit. He was taller than Draco remembered, and his shoulders were broader, more defined. His hair wasn’t such a disaster anymore and his skin was clear and bright. Draco wondered if he moisturised. 

_Of course he doesn’t moisturise_, Draco thought moodily. _He probably doesn’t even brush his teeth_.

Potter was inspecting him, too, but his gaze was interested rather than hostile.

“How are you able to see right now?” Draco said.

“A charm.” Potter frowned and went a bit cross-eyed. “It’s not working all that well.”

“You killed the Dark Lord but you don’t know how to cast a good Vision Charm?”

Potter shrugged. “Tom Riddle killed himself, really.”

Draco snorted. He _hated_ the humble act. 

Tim came back panting. “I couldn’t find them,” he gasped. “I’m terribly sorry, Mr Potter.”

“It’s all right. I’ll look for my spares at home.”

“Are they the same as your old ones?” Draco said.

“Yeah.”

“Pity.” Draco pretended to land on an idea. “I’m sure my colleague has a pair you can have!”

Potter frowned. “No, thank you. I like my own.”

“Are you sure? His glasses are quite fashionable.”

“No, they’re not!” Tim said with a touch of self-awareness.

“Shut up, Tim.”

“It’s _Jim_, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s what I said.”

Potter sighed. “I’ll leave you two to bicker. Thanks for your help.” He walked away and Malfoy stared at his arse. He couldn’t help it. Potter had a quality arse.

His cock twitched, and Draco gritted his teeth. He was so over being a horny virgin.

*

“No,” Teddy said, taking the dragon from Harry’s hand. “You’re not doing it right.”

Teddy, who was almost three, thought he knew everything. He _especially_ knew how to play dragons. 

“I’m sorry, Ted.” Harry rubbed his face. “I’m distracted.”

Earlier that day, Harry had stumbled on Malfoy working at King’s Cross and he couldn’t think about anything else. _Malfoy_ . . . _working_. 

He’d never dreamed of Malfoy holding down a job. He’d only imagined him parading around his Manor, wearing Lucius’ clothes and feeding the white peacocks expensive fruit. 

Harry was now at Andromeda’s for dinner. He spent most evenings at her house. He liked helping her with chores, and seeing Teddy. Last weekend, he’d ripped out the weeds from her garden. 

“Boys,” Andromeda called from the kitchen. Harry liked it when she was motherly to him. 

“Come on,” he said, and spelled Teddy’s dragons back to the toy box. “Let’s have some roast.”

Teddy grabbed a dragon mid-flight. “I want to put him away.”

Harry grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

In the kitchen, Andromeda was shaking too much to set the table.

“Let me,” he said cheerfully, not wanting to offend her. He had the cutlery soar to the table. He retrieved a bottle of wine and filled up Teddy’s trainer cup with pumpkin juice.

Andromeda’s face was softer than her sister’s, but there were still glimpses of Bellatrix. Her hand shook as she served Teddy, but Harry didn’t comment on it. She hated when he interfered too much. Nobody liked to be reminded of their weakness. 

“Make sure you eat the rest of this veg.” She shot Harry a warning look.

“Not a problem.” He always liked it when she made sprouts. 

Teddy was big enough to sit at the table and Harry made sure he was eating before focusing on his own plate.

“I lost my glasses today at the train station,” Harry said.

“Oh, no!” Andromeda squinted at him. “But you’re wearing them right now, aren’t you?”

“These are my spares, but you won’t believe who I saw when I went to the service desk.”

“Draco Malfoy.”

He frowned. “How did you already know?”

“You’ve seen me writing to Narcissa. She’s not very happy about it.”

“Yeah,” he said, finishing a bite of beef. “I’m surprised he’s working at all.”

“From what I can tell, he’s not very happy with his parents. Of course, Narcissa is quite tight lipped about it all, but I’ve pieced together the truth from her owls.”

“Why wouldn’t he be happy? I mean, they got to keep the Manor, didn’t they? It could’ve been a lot worse for them.”

“I don’t think he likes the Manor anymore. I wouldn’t like it either, would you? After everything he saw during the war.”

“Right.” The truth was Harry hadn’t given much thought to Malfoy in the past couple of years. He was glad he’d helped him and his mum avoid Azkaban, but he’d wiped his hands of them after giving his testimony to the bloody Wizengamot vultures.

He knew Malfoy had grown up, he knew he’d changed, but he never imagined him working such a menial job.

“What did he look like?” Andromeda said. “Did he look like he was eating?”

“He looked . . . proper. His clothes were quite nice. He looked happy, I suppose.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll have to tell Narcissa. She worries about him, you know.” She put a bit of beef on Teddy’s fork. “Stop playing with your food. Eat some of your roast like a good boy.”

Teddy didn’t like being called a good boy, but he allowed Andromeda to feed him. 

“Have you heard from Ginny?”

Harry shifted in his seat. He pushed his food around his plate, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah, I have. She’s enjoying Quidditch training.”

“Do you know when she will be back? I’m sure she misses you.”

“Um, yeah.” He and Ginny were taking a break, but he hadn’t told her that. They hadn’t told most people yet. 

He didn’t know how he felt about his break with Ginny. He would miss the sex, but he supposed it would be easy enough to find another girlfriend. He just didn’t know if he could trust another girl like he trusted Ginny. 

Andromeda was watching him closely. She patted his hand. “It’s okay, dear. She will return soon enough.”

“You’ve got some gravy on your chin,” he said to Teddy, and tried to wipe his face.

“No,” Teddy said, jerking away. “I want to do it.” 

Harry handed him a serviette. 

After dinner, Harry gave Teddy his nightly bath. Andromeda had finally stopped hovering at the door to make sure Harry didn’t drown him. 

Harry made a mountain of bubbles for Teddy to play with. This usually meant Teddy got soap suds everywhere.

As Harry washed Teddy’s dark blond hair, he felt an intense wave of protectiveness. Andromeda was dying; that was the sad truth. She was dying and Harry was determined to make her death as painless as possible for Teddy. He’d already lost so much. 

Once Andromeda was gone, Harry would take over custody of Teddy. She didn’t agree; she thought he’d already sacrificed enough of his youth to the war. _You don’t need to be a twenty-year-old father_, she said.

But the war had matured him, or, at least, it made him seek out mature things. Fatherhood just seemed so _stable_. If he raised Teddy, he’d know his purpose, and his life would have a trajectory for the next fourteen years. 

He supposed he’d known for a while that he and Gin weren’t going to make it. He’d long stopped thinking about having children with her. He’d long stopped caring what she thought about him being a father to Teddy. It was funny how a few years could change everything. Ginny had her Quidditch career, and Harry had Teddy and Grimmauld Place.

Teddy zoomed his dragon in the air, making quiet roars like the dragon was pondering something. He shoved the dragon’s face in some soap suds, and made slurping noises. “Look! He’s eating _soap_.” Teddy seemed to think this was the funniest thing, and he laughed and laughed. Harry laughed, too.

After bathtime, Harry helped Teddy into his pyjamas and left Andromeda to read him to sleep. It was hard to say goodbye, but this wasn’t his home.

Grimmauld Place was depressing. Especially at night. Especially when Harry first Floo’ed in. The parlour was dark, the ancient furniture crouched in the corners, and the portraits whispered to one another.

Harry needed to remodel the house, or just buy some of his own shit, but he hadn’t a clue where to start. After spending the first eleven years of his life in a cupboard, he’d never developed a need to decorate. He liked Grimmauld Place because it already had things that somebody else had placed there, like in a cupboard.

He lay in bed and tried to sleep. His mind wandered, aimlessly reviewing his day. He was frustrated that he’d lost his favourite pair of glasses. He’d finally got the arms to fit perfectly, and he was pretty sure his spares were crooked. 

Malfoy worked at a _service desk_. He looked different. He seemed taller, more capable. The last time Harry had seen him, they were in the belly of the Wizengamot and his complexion was the colour of Stonewall High uniforms. 

He had to see Malfoy again. He wanted to hide under his Invisibility Cloak and watch him work. He was probably bossy with the customers. He’d definitely been a prick to his coworker. 

Harry would go back in a week. He didn’t want Malfoy to think he was stalking him. He’d go back and just ask him how he was doing. 

Yes, that was a good plan. He rolled over and went to sleep.

*

Draco was back at work again, but this time he wore a green bow tie. He saw some of the Muggles wearing them, and they looked all right with their button shirts, but he liked how they looked with robes. Impeccably-tailoured robes.

“Slow day, eh?”

Draco rubbed his temples. “Please don’t speak to me, TJ.” He had a new nickname for Tim or Jim since he couldn’t remember his name. 

TJ opened and closed his mouth; then he shook his head and returned his attention to the Lost and Found list. For some bloody reason, he wanted to catalogue the items in that neverending room. Draco thought it was a waste of time; even management didn’t want to know what was in there.

The day _had_ been slow, which was all right with Draco. He’d gone out with Pansy the night before and she always made him drink too much. They both liked a good party, or, at least, he liked a good party with her. He knew blokes who spent their weekends at clubs, hunting for a shag or a free drink, but he didn’t have the patience. 

Then Draco spotted a frequent flyer, and he knew his day was about to get more exciting. She marched toward the desk, an angry glint in her eye. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” She slapped her enormous carpet bag onto the counter, and something inside clinked. 

The woman came to the desk almost weekly with complaints. She was utterly mad, but he enjoyed the challenge. He smiled brightly at her.

“Good afternoon, madam! How lovely it is to see you again.”

She gave a hmph. “It’s not lovely to see you lads _again_. I’ve come to report another harassment.”

“Oh, no!” he said, hoping he sounded just a little delighted. “Not another hooligan taking your seat, I hope.”

“No, _not this time_. This time, one of your good-for-nothing attendants refused to take my bag!”

Draco blinked. “Take it where, madam?”

“How am I supposed to know? He’s the employee. I just didn’t want it with me during my journey, you understand?”

“Completely,” he said, and produced the official complaint form. “You should know the process. Our customer service experts look over the forms weekly, so rest assured they will take your grievance seriously.” 

_Rest assured they will waste their bloody time_, he thought. 

She narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t received an answer to my last complaint.”

“They must be backed up. I can give you their Floo address.”

“You already gave me that! I’ve tried Floo’ing them countless times. No one ever answers. Sometimes I even hear _snickering_.”

“That’s quite unfortunate,” he said sadly. 

She snatched up the form and her bag. “Useless, the lot of you!” She stomped away.

Draco muffled a laugh. “She’s like one of those nans who take the broom caravan to Cornwall every weekend. It’s like bloody clockwork.”

“My nan does that,” TJ said. “She loves it.”

“Oh,” Draco said, and turned away. He was organising some pamphlets when he looked up and found Potter right in front of him. He started and dropped a few.

“Sorry,” Potter said ruefully. 

“Back again so soon?” Draco waved his wand and the pamphlets soared back to the stack. 

“Looks like.”

Draco smirked. “Miss me that much?”

Potter rolled his eyes. “I guess I wanted to talk to you. Figure out why you were working a desk.”

“Do you think I’m up to something? Again?” 

“No,” Potter said, flushing.

Draco leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Really? Because you might be right this time.”

Potter took a step back. He didn’t know it, but Draco was flirting with him. It’d always been one of Draco’s favourite pastimes. It wasn’t his fault that Potter couldn’t tell when a bully was a touch smitten. He was glad Potter had never noticed.

“I _was_ right in sixth year, but no one would believe me.” Potter’s voice had hardened.

“How tragic for you.” Draco pouted. 

Something flickered in Potter’s eyes, and it looked a lot like disdain. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. Don’t you think we’re a little old for schoolboy rivalry?”

“Absolutely not. Snape went to his grave nursing rivalries.”

“Do you really want to be like him? I mean, it’s not like he had a good go of it.”

“At least he was respected.”

Potter took a deep breath. “When are you off?” He held up his hands. “I just want half an hour. Get a coffee with me.”

“Ridiculous,” Draco said faintly. 

“Come on, Malfoy. Don’t be a coward.”

“Really? _Already_ resorting to calling me a coward? At this rate, you’ll invoke my guilt about getting Dumbledore killed just to take me to dinner.”

Potter’s mouth fell open, but Draco felt his cheeks warm. _Take me to dinner_. He needed to be more careful. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“TJ,” Draco barked. “I’m taking my break.”

“Okay!” TJ rushed from the back room. He was holding a rubber chicken. “The things people lose!”

Draco came around the desk. He straightened his bow tie and concealed his robes with a spell. “Lead the way, Potter. I’ve got fifteen minutes.”

Potter blinked a few times, then headed straight for the Muggle coffee shop in the station. Stardeer or whatever. 

“Found your glasses?” Draco said.

“Nope, but I got my spares to work.”

The shop was busy and they got in the queue. There was a baby staring rudely at Draco and he stared right back.

“So, can I start asking my question, or do I need to wait until we sit down?”

“You better ask now. My break will probably be up before we get our coffee.”

“Good point.” Potter took a deep breath like he was nervous. “So. Your job. Why?”

“Turns out I’m brilliant at customer service.”

“Really?”

“I also need the money.” It gave Draco a thrill to say this. He wasn’t used to not having money. It was like he was slumming it, like his need wasn’t real.

“I thought your family could handle the reparations.”

“Of course we could handle them. Our vaults are _ancient_.”

“But?”

Draco licked his lips. He felt Potter’s gaze and he didn’t like it. “My father—he refuses to support my _habit_.”

“What?”

“He thinks I’m wasting my life living in Muggle London. He doesn’t approve of it.”

Potter was really staring now. “Are you sure you’re Draco Malfoy? You’re not Polyjuiced as him, right?”

“Damn, you got me. It’s actually Loony Lovegood under here. Draco died ages ago and the other Lovegood is just a robot.”

“What do you know about robots?”

“Loads. They destroy things. They loathe humans, too.”

“What?” Potter laughed.

Draco shrugged. “That’s what the films say. Do you go to the cinema?”

“Yeah, but—Malfoy. _You_ go to the cinema?”

“What else am I supposed to do? Get one of those computer things instead?”

The queue had moved quickly, and they stepped up to the till to order. 

Draco had no idea what the shop actually served. He just liked ordering random drinks and forcing the person behind the till to connect the dots. 

“I want that biscuit coffee. With strawberry. And milk that isn’t milk. Oh, and I also want chocolate syrup. Don’t forget that cream that comes out of a metal thing.”

“You got it,” said the girl. “Can I get a name for the order?”

Draco tapped his finger to his chin. “X Man.”

The girl didn’t blink. She wrote X Man on his cup, then looked at Potter. “Is this order together?”

“Of course it is,” Draco said happily.

Potter snorted and ordered a small hot coffee. 

As they waited for Draco’s drink, Potter said, “Why did you choose X Man?”

“It’s a film I saw last summer. X Man. It was entertaining.”

“X-Men! You liked that film about mutants.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool,” Potter said.

They got his drink and found two empty chairs in the corner. Draco checked his watch.

“You need to speed up this interrogation. I’ve got to get back to work in five minutes.”

Potter sipped his coffee. He looked nervous. “Does your mum ever talk about Teddy Lupin?”

“Oh.” Draco blinked. “Not really.”

“I think you should see him. It would be good for him to be introduced to more family. I know what it’s like to grow up without one, and I don’t want him to ever feel isolated.”

“Doesn’t he have the Weasleys?”

Potter shifted uncomfortably. “Not really. Not after—well, it’s complicated.”

Draco swallowed his sugary coffee, thinking. “Are you sure Andromeda would like it if I saw him?”

“Do you want to? That’s the real question.”

“Yes,” Draco said. “I’ve thought about him, of course. Both of his parents killed during the war. It’s . . . dreadful.”

“I’m relieved you understand.” Potter rubbed the side of his face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

“I understand the power of family.” Draco smoothed out a serviette. “Cover me.”

“Okay.” Potter leaned across him so no one could see what he was doing with his hands.

With his wand, Draco wrote his address on the serviette, then handed it to Potter. “Owl me the details.” He narrowed his eyes. “_Don’t_ stalk me. My flat is none of your business.”

Potter took the serviette. “Your flat?”

Draco stood. He took another sip of his coffee, then grimaced. He binned the cup. “See you around, Potter.”

*

A few days later, at Grimmauld Place, Harry and Teddy prepared for Malfoy’s visit. Harry concentrated his cleaning on the parlour and kitchen, and there was _another_ Boggart in the foyer cupboard.

Like always, Teddy was eager to help, but Harry didn’t want him to get into a drawer that contained dark magic. Grimmauld Place wasn’t a good place for a child, and Harry would have to make sure every nook and cranny was safe. To do that, he would need help, and a lot of it. 

As Harry checked the curtains for creatures and Teddy ran a floor cloth over the dark hardwood, the clock clicked closer to Malfoy’s arrival. Harry was still shocked that Malfoy had even agreed to come. _Everything_ about Malfoy shocked him. He went to the cinema, for Merlin’s sake. 

There was a knock on the door. Harry started. He’d expected Malfoy to come through the Floo.

“Damn,” he muttered, and took the cloth from Teddy, only then noticing that Teddy was covered in dust. He hit them both with quick Cleaning Charms, and went to open the door. 

Malfoy stood on the doorstep, his hair gleaming in the sunlight. He looked good, and Harry was a bit jealous of his posh clothes and haircut. Harry didn’t know where to begin with fashion, and his jeans were currently covered in muck. 

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “You’re dirty.”

“Thanks,” Harry said lightly, and stepped aside. “Please come in.”

Hesitating a moment, Malfoy inched past. Teddy was right there to greet him. They just stared at each other.

“Hello.” Teddy wasn’t a shy child.

“Hello,” Malfoy said. 

“Thank you for coming,” Harry said, trying to break their staring contest. He closed the door and ushered them to the parlour. “Would you like something to drink, Malfoy?”

Malfoy didn’t respond. He was too busy looking at all the heirlooms. “I think my mum came here a lot when she was a little girl.”

“Really?”

“She was friends with Sirius Black, believe it or not.”

“I’m assuming before Hogwarts.”

“Yes,” Malfoy said faintly. 

“It’s a mess, I know. Be careful—there are still a few hidden curses.”

Malfoy shrugged. “There are loads of curses at the Manor. Never bothered me.”

Harry glanced at Teddy. “Did you ever get hurt?”

“Once or twice. When I was seven or eight, I accidentally touched a cursed painting of my tenth-great grandfather. We found out later that he was the one obsessed with immortality and had his portrait cursed to feed off the living. He thought maybe he could come back to life through his portrait, you know. Utterly barmy.” 

“That sounds terrible.”

“It wasn’t. There are loads of idiots like that in my family.” Malfoy turned away. 

“I want my sandwich,” Teddy said.

“We made sandwiches. It’s okay if you’re not hungry,” Harry said to Malfoy.

Malfoy plopped down on the sofa. “Well, bring them out.”

“Right.” Harry went to the stairs, but then hesitated. He could just Summon them, but he didn’t want to accidentally drop them. He also didn’t think Malfoy wanted to be left alone with Teddy.

“I’m not going to hurt him, Potter.” Malfoy crossed his arms.

“Right,” Harry said again, and went down to the kitchen. When he returned with the sandwiches, Teddy was on the sofa with Malfoy.

“I had a toy dragon, too,” Malfoy said.

“Mine is better,” Teddy said.

“I don’t know about that. Mine _flew_.”

Teddy shot Harry a wounded look. “Why doesn’t mine fly?”

“Your nan and I agreed when you’re older.”

Teddy tore his sandwich into pieces, lots and lots of pieces. Crumbs went everywhere. Malfoy watched disdainfully.

“It’s okay if he makes a mess,” Harry said. “He always helps me clean up afterward.” 

Malfoy picked up a sandwich and parted the bread. “And you’re serving him Muggle sandwiches.”

Harry shrugged. “He likes peanut butter.”

“I’ve never had it.” Malfoy took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Not bad. The texture is weird.”

“I love it!” Teddy said. 

“So, Edward,” Malfoy said, all business. “What do you like to do for fun?”

Teddy thought for a moment. “I like to . . . sleep. I like to eat sandwiches.”

“Do you like to go to the park?”

“Oh, yeah.” Teddy told a long meandering story about how he lost one of his dragons at the park. Malfoy listened intently. 

Harry gobbled up a sandwich, then a second. He went back down to the kitchen to make tea. He liked seeing Malfoy with Teddy. He probably liked it too much. 

“How do you take your tea, Malfoy?” he said, back in the parlour. 

“Let me,” Malfoy said, and used his wand to pour in lots of milk and sugar. Harry tried to hide his grimace. 

Harry made Teddy a small cup and cast a non-spill spell. Teddy watched how Malfoy drank his tea and followed his lead. Teddy looked at him admiringly, and Harry tried not to be jealous.

“Why didn’t you become an Auror?” Malfoy was suddenly staring at Harry.

“Oh.” Harry sipped his tea. “Um.”

“Everyone thought you would. I’m sure the Ministry was dying to have you under their control.”

“Right you are about that.”

Malfoy’s gaze was so intense it made Harry shift. “What will you do with yourself?”

Now Harry was really uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll focus on raising Teddy.”

Malfoy frowned. “The Chosen One can’t just stay home and be a mum.”

“I’m not trying to be his mum.”

“What about the Weasley girl? Shouldn’t you be married to her by now?”

Harry flushed. “I—it’s complicated.”

“What’s complicated about it? You were _obsessed_ with the Weasleys at Hogwarts.”

“I wasn’t obsessed.”

Malfoy snorted. “Nobody could say a word against them. Merlin forbid someone have _critical feedback_ about them.”

“There was no critical feedback! You were just a bully.”

“They were _poor_. Why have so many children you can’t afford?”

“It was none of your business!” Harry felt the anger in his chest. 

“You were obsessed. You wanted to be one of them. Even though they were poor. Even though they were _ginger_.” Malfoy shuddered.

“I like gingers!”

Malfoy crossed his arms. He stuck his chin in the air. “I know.”

“I want to play,” Teddy said, pushing himself off the sofa. 

“Let’s go outside,” Harry said, standing quickly. He was done with this conversation. 

The sun was still shining, which was a small victory in Britain. Harry Summoned a blanket and a toy, but Teddy ignored both to sit in the mud and make pies. 

Harry and Malfoy stood and watched. Malfoy was a little taller than him. 

“He’s ruining his trousers,” Malfoy said.

Harry shrugged. “There’s always cleaning spells.”

“My parents never let me ruin my clothes.”

“No?”

“_No_.”

“I never really had clean clothes growing up. They were all stained or too loose.” Harry looked up at the blue sky. He didn’t know why he was being so honest. 

Malfoy turned to him. He plucked at Harry’s shirt. “That explains a lot.”

“What? You don’t like my shirt?”

“I’m sure it was a good shirt two lifetimes ago.”

Harry snorted. “What you’re saying is I need a new one.”

Malfoy circled him, touching his sleeve, then his hem. “It’s fraying.”

“Oh. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Aren’t you rich? Why are you wearing _rags_?”

Teddy brought a handful of mud to his mouth.

“Don’t eat that,” Harry said.

“Take your shirt off,” Malfoy said.

Harry shot him a look. “Why?”

“Because it needs to be fixed. You look disgusting.”

“Disgusting?”

“You look like you live in a _shack_.” 

“Maybe I like looking like this.”

Malfoy pulled on Harry’s shirt. His knuckles brushed Harry’s side. It was strange, Malfoy touching him. 

“I’m not taking off my shirt.”

“Why not? You have something to hide?”

Harry crossed his arms. “What would I be hiding?”

Malfoy touched Harry’s stomach. He held his hand there for a moment. “You’re not fat.”

“There wouldn’t be anything wrong if I was.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re really into appearances.”

Malfoy smoothed his hands through his hair. “It’s how I was raised.”

Harry frowned. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to invite him over. What if Teddy gained weight? Would Malfoy call him fat? Would he make him feel unworthy?

Malfoy was scrutinising him. “I’m not a bad person, you know.”

“You being here. It’s weird.”

“You’re the one who invited me!”

“I know.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Harry sighed loudly. “Why don’t you live with your parents? Why are you so different but so much the same?”

Malfoy smiled, bemused. “You sound like a nutter.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“How am I supposed to know why I’m different? I’m not a child anymore.”

“Are you trying to improve yourself?”

“Improve what?”

Harry waved vaguely. “Do you regret things?”

“Why are you asking me if you already know?”

“I don’t know if you feel regret.”

“Of course you know! You were there at my hearing! You heard my testimony to the Wizengamot!” 

“You wish you hadn’t followed Voldemort. That’s a no-brainer. You can still be a prick and regret getting into trouble.”

“Getting into trouble? That monster _lived_ with us. I saw him during breakfast! He _murdered_ people in my home.”

“So you don’t live at the Manor because too many people died there?”

“I can’t stand to be reminded!” Malfoy was glaring at him. “I _hate_ the boy I was. I was so stupid, so selfish. I thought I knew everything, but I was just brainwashed.”

Harry blinked. “You think you were brainwashed?”

“Piss off!” Malfoy stormed into the house. Harry followed, not even thinking about Teddy.

“Wait!” He grabbed Malfoy’s arm. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Malfoy seemed to lean into his touch. Harry dropped his hand. 

Malfoy took a deep, shuddering breath. “What did I do that made you angry? Was it the shirt thing?”

“I don’t want Teddy exposed to your bigotry.” 

“Oh, _fuck you_.” Malfoy’s face was red and blotchy.

“I remember how mean you were to Neville. I remember the things you said to Hermione. I want to believe that you’ve changed, that you’ve grown up, but how can I be sure when you still say hurtful things?”

“It’s called a _joke_.”

“I don’t think it’s funny.”

Malfoy turned away, a fist pressed to his forehead. “I don’t know why I came here. You are always making me do such stupid things.”

“I didn’t make you do anything.”

“All I ever wanted was you to—”

“Be your friend?”

“I need to leave. Tell Teddy goodbye for me.” Malfoy headed for the door.

Harry let him go. Sighing, he went back outside to Teddy.

*

Draco slammed his flat door. He was such an idiot. Why had he visited _Potter_?

He tore off his robes and kicked off his shoes. He needed a drink. He needed to get that terrible peanut butter taste out of his mouth.

Summoning his bottle of whiskey, he fell back on his sofa and covered his face with an arm. The bottle landed on his coffee table, but he didn’t fetch it. 

He’d asked Potter to take off his shirt. Merlin, he’d virtually _demanded_ it. Even in the moment, he’d known he was being weird. He’d known he was only escalating the situation.

Potter had just looked so good. Draco gritted his teeth. He felt his mind retracting from that thought. He wanted to hide from it. He wanted to _force_ it from his brain. 

Potter was fit. He’d always been fit. Even with his knobbly knees. Even with his poor people clothes. Merlin, Draco _hated_ his glasses. 

He’d always been the one person who made Draco make a fool of himself. Draco always miscalculated around him. He was always _showing off_. It’d been like that from the very beginning. 

Grabbing the bottle, Draco tore the cap off and drank deeply. It was sloppy and wet. 

From the moment Draco stepped into that old house, he’d wanted to touch Potter. He had been _dying_ to touch him. He’d wanted to get under his skin, poke around. He’d wanted to push Potter until he was red in the face and uncomfortable. He’d wanted to force him into a corner, metaphorically or physically or both. _Look at me. Pay attention to_ me. _Value_ me.

Then there was the werewolf pup. Or whatever. Draco hadn’t a clue if Edward Lupin was a werewolf, but his father had been one, and it was _disgusting_. His father had even been _poor_. 

Draco swallowed more whiskey. It was the last, and he flung the bottle against his wall. _Fuck you, Muggle neighbours!_ The bottle didn’t shatter. 

He stomped to his little window and shoved back the curtains. The sun was still shining but he only saw its dregs. 

He _was_ a bigot. Potter was right. How could Draco think such things about a toddler? He was such a hateful bastard and he knew it. He knew it, and he hated it. 

_I refuse to be like him_, Draco thought. He refused to be his father. Hate was so comforting. It felt right because it allowed him to hide from himself. It allowed him to hide from the world. But he knew he was hiding. He was done being a coward.

An apology. Potter deserved an apology. Draco stormed into his kitchen and Summoned some crumpled parchment and a blunted quill. 

_Potter—I apologise for the way I acted today. I was peculiar and mean. You are right that I need to do better. I hope we can do something together again, and soon. You and Edward and me. Teddy. I promise to watch what I say around him, and to not ask you to remove your shirt. But, please, take my advice, and bin the ugly thing. Sincerely, DM_

When he finished writing, he had a stiffy. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The littlest things made him aroused. Potter in general made him aroused, _damn it_.

He wanted to see Potter again. He wanted to prove that he was different and better. He unbuttoned his trousers and snaked a hand into his pants. He squeezed his cock, then stroked slowly. He saw Potter’s eyes, and his mouth. He saw his hands and his shoulders and remembered what his stomach had felt like, the warmth of it. He quickened his hand.

*

They were at a park, and the clouds curled like smoke above them.

Teddy was shrieking. He was chasing something, running in circles. Malfoy looked very confused.

“I think he’s imagining dragons,” Harry said. 

“Shouldn’t he be _riding_ them?”

Harry shrugged. 

It was a week after their disastrous afternoon at Grimmauld Place and Malfoy’s subsequent apology. Harry had been shocked. He’d never imagined Malfoy apologising for anything. He wasn’t even sure if Malfoy had apologised to the Wizengamot. He’d kept the note, tucked it in a drawer. He’d read it over and over. 

They were plagued by awkward silence. There was so much to say, so much to ask, but Harry didn’t know how to talk to Malfoy. They were never meant to be friends. 

Malfoy clasped his hands and watched Teddy. He wet his lips, his eyes like the clouds in the sky. His mouth was very cruel, but vulnerable. Harry didn’t know why he was looking at Malfoy’s mouth.

“I miss Ginny,” Harry said, and the suddenness of it made him gulp. “I mean, I think I miss her.”

Malfoy scrunched up his nose like he smelled something bad. “Shouldn’t you be telling this to Granger or some other girl?”

“Haven’t you ever missed a girlfriend?”

Now Malfoy looked angry. “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

Harry blinked at him. “But—Parkinson?”

“No.”

“But—” _I knew girls who fancied you in school_.

“Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“You could’ve had a girlfriend during school. There were loads—”

Malfoy sucked in a loud breath. “I know that, Potter.” His voice trembled. 

Harry crouched down to pull at some grass. From this angle, Malfoy’s chin looked ridiculously pointy. “Then what stopped you? Even I managed to get some girlfriends, and I’m the biggest dunderhead when it comes to that sort of thing.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But I don’t understand.”

Malfoy crouched too and pulled a dandelion from the ground. He blew its puffy seeds into Harry’s face. His breath was minty.

“What did you do that for?” 

Instead of answering, Malfoy went to Teddy. Harry couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but suddenly Malfoy flapped his arms and roared. Teddy stepped back, more alarmed than frightened. When Teddy understood, he ran away, shrieking in delight. Malfoy began his hunt. 

Harry watched, not knowing what he felt. There was something primal churning in him, something deeper than just jealousy. He didn’t want to be replaced. He didn’t want Teddy to like Malfoy more than him.

He also liked the look of Malfoy with Teddy. Maybe it was all in his head, but he could see the similarities in their features. There was something about the eyes and brow. In one way or another, they were both Blacks. 

“Want to join in, Potter?” Malfoy called over his shoulder.

“No, I’m having too much fun watching.”

Malfoy paused for a moment to look at him, just look. Then he smiled, and Harry smiled back.

*

“I want to pick where we go next time.”

It was after the park, and they were at a restaurant called _Proper Hamburger_. Teddy was falling asleep in his plate and there was ketchup on his cheek. 

Harry ate a few of Teddy’s chips. “Okay, but only if you show me your flat.”

“What?” Malfoy blinked. 

“That’s the deal. You get to pick where we go if you invite me over to your flat.”

“Why do you want to see my flat?”

Harry shrugged. “You live in a _flat_, around _Muggles_.”

“I thought you were used to Muggles. Weren’t you raised with them?”

“It’s not the Muggle part. It’s the _you_ part. Draco Malfoy living in a flat with Muggle neighbours!”

Malfoy smirked. “I didn’t know you cared.”

Harry focused on dipping a chip into ketchup. “I’m curious about you, I’ll admit it.”

“See, you should have never admitted that.” Malfoy’s smirk widened. “I’ll show you my flat only if you explain why you are here and your weasel girlfriend is _elsewhere_.”

“Don’t call her that.” Harry’s heart pounded. “We’re . . . taking a break.”

Malfoy’s mouth fell open, but only momentarily. His expression shuttered. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not!”

“Okay, I’m not.” Malfoy smiled a little. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you two taking a break?”

Harry took a deep breath. He hadn’t even gone into the specifics with Hermione. “I dunno. It’s nothing dramatic. I just don’t feel how I used to feel. I don’t want to give up on the relationship—we both don’t. But it’s hard.”

Malfoy’s expression was almost hungry. “That’s unfortunate.”

“You love that my girlfriend wants to dump me! I can see it in your face.”

“No, it’s nothing like that.”

“You want me to be a sad singleton. You want to point and laugh at me.”

“What don’t you like about her anymore?”

“What?”

Malfoy sighed in frustration. “What changed? All the newspapers said you two would get married. Merlin, even my own mum talked about it.”

“Your mum talked about my relationship with Ginny?”

“Answer my question.”

“No, you answer my question first: Do you hate your father?”

Malfoy sat back in his chair. “You’re changing the rules.”

“There were no rules. Can’t we just have an honest conversation?”

Malfoy glanced at Teddy, then leaned closer. “Sure, let’s be honest. Did Ginny Weasley stop making your prick hard?”

“Malfoy!”

“He’s bloody asleep. Answer me.”

“Why in the hell do you care?”

“You’re the one who wanted to be _honest_.”

Harry blew out his cheeks. “I’m still attracted to her.”

“When’s the last time you two shagged?”

“Jesus.”

Malfoy swallowed. “Okay, that question crossed a line. I know it.”

“Why is your face so red?”

“It’s _warm_ in here. The bloody Muggles like _sweating_.” 

“We’ve both changed,” Harry said suddenly. “Ginny’s in love with the boy I was before. I’m doing a shit job of explaining this.”

“No, go on.”

“I reckon I’m in a transition. I can feel it. We both can feel it. The last time we shagged, it was good, I mean, of course it was good, but it also made me feel . . . empty.”

“Empty?”

Harry sighed and sat back in his chair. “I need to break it off with her officially. Find another girlfriend. Someone who understands the person I’m trying to become.”

Malfoy stood. “I need the toilet.”

*

Draco lay in bed, his wand ringing near his head. He had to get up for work, but he didn’t have the will.

He’d been dreaming about Potter, but he couldn’t remember the details. He’d woken up with a stiffy, so it’d probably been sexual, but who knew. Sometimes his cock just liked getting a head start on the day. 

There was tapping on his window. “Go away,” he yelled at the owl. 

The owl glared at him. There was another letter from Potter in its beak. Draco didn’t need to open it to know. Potter had owled him daily since their day together. 

Draco didn’t want to answer his owls. He wanted nothing to do with Potter. He planned to ask Andromeda to see Teddy alone. 

Groaning, he got up from bed and headed for his toilet. The owl screeched indignantly and Draco gave it two fingers. 

In the shower, he pressed his forehead to cold tile and tried to ignore his erection. He wouldn’t wank to Potter. Not anymore. He refused to pine for a straight boy. He refused to be so _pathetic_.

He saw Potter at the restaurant, the electric light paling his face, brightening his eyes. He liked a stupid amount of ketchup on his hamburger, and he kept licking at the corner of his mouth. His hands were awkward, manly. Draco had watched him reach for his fizzy drink and wondered what his hand looked like wrapped around his own cock. 

_I need to find another girlfriend._

Draco wanted to drive his fist into the tile. The urge shocked him, the violence of it. He was done letting _Scarhead_ make him feel so poorly. He never wanted to see him again. 

His stiffy was now insistent. _Think about someone else. Anyone else._ His mind was flushed with images of other men. Blaise Zabini. Marcus Flint. Severus Snape (MERLIN!). Adrian Pucey. Remus Lupin. 

Draco opened his eyes. Absolutely not. 

But he saw it. Lupin mounting him. Lupin growling filth in his ear. He’d grab a fistful of Draco’s hair, forcing his head back. _Do you like taking care of my boy?_

Draco pressed a hand to his eyes and wrapped the other around his prick. He stroked, trying to block out everything. Lupin became Potter, and Potter was fucking him. He was laughing hotly, the pleasure making his voice hitch. He fisted Draco’s hair and said, _Time to grow up, Malfoy._

*

The train station was quiet when Draco arrived for his shift. Every corridor held its breath for the morning rush.

One of Draco’s favourite things was opening the desk. As the senior employee, he came in an hour before his coworker to get everything ready. There was something so peaceful about _organising_, especially if he didn’t think about the Lost and Found room. 

The morning was unremarkable. The rush was always an interesting sight, and it never failed to remind him of his first journey to Hogwarts, which was also his first exposure to Muggle London.

His parents had avoided Muggle London like the Vampiria plague. That day, their backs had been so stiff they threatened to shatter. Draco remembered telling himself to hide his excitement, but he _was_ excited. He’d been told Muggles were disgusting and inferior, like the rats scurrying in the Manor’s dungeons, but they _were_ clever; very, very clever. 

They had electricity and automobiles and cinema. Their world was bright and colourful and _loud_. The Manor was so quiet. It was dreary and lonely. Draco had been desperate for companionship. He’d been desperate for knowledge. He’d wanted the entire world to laugh at his biting jokes, and he’d wanted these strange Muggles to _adore_ him.

It was sad. Heartbreaking. At eleven, Draco had to remind himself not to show that he didn’t hate as much as his father wanted. He wasn’t evil. He was just coddled. Sheltered. He’d been given everything his parents assumed he’d want. Draco could have made different choices if only he’d had different parents. He loved being a Malfoy. He loved being rich and special, but he didn’t want to hurt others. Katie Bell haunted him. 

He was in the back room when someone rang the service bell. He smiled, assuming it was another frequent flyer.

He stopped when he saw who it was. “I told you not to stalk me, Potter.”

Potter looked sheepish. “I swear I didn’t come here to talk to you.” He held out two tickets. “I was charged twice for the same ride.”

“The Chosen One can’t afford losing a few Galleons?”

Potter went pink. “I just thought . . . you know.”

Draco crossed his arms and glared.

“Why won’t you answer my owls?” Potter said. “I thought we had a fine go of it the other day.”

“It won’t be easy getting your money back. You’ll have to see our ticket witch around the corner, but she’s only there on the odd days of the month. She also likes working early mornings. Very early. Like before the sun comes up.”

“If I somehow offended you . . . it wasn’t my intention.”

Draco rolled his eyes. He felt his shoulders getting spiky. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Potter’s expression softened in relief. Draco hated his earnestness. He _hated_ it.

“Teddy misses you. He says you are the only one who can play dragons with him right.”

Draco looked down at the counter. His hands seemed very white and cold against the dark wood, and for some reason this gave him strength. Potter didn’t know him. He hadn’t a clue what went on in his mind. Draco would keep it that way. He could be around him and not let him in. 

“I’ve been busy, Potter. What did your owls say?”

“Oh, nothing too dramatic. I was just begging you to write back.”

Draco frowned. “Don’t you have mates? What happened to Granger and Weasley?”

“They are getting married soon. They don’t want me around.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. The most admired man in the wizarding world was _lonely_. “I get off soon. Do you want to see my flat?”

_Want to see my flat?_ It sounded so flirtatious. Draco’s stomach lurched a little.

Potter blinked in surprise. “Oh, I was heading to Andromeda’s, but I could cancel. I’m already over there too often.”

“Great,” Draco said, and he clapped his hands for some damn reason. “Go sit somewhere or run an errand. I don’t want you gawking at me while I work.”

Potter’s mouth twisted like he was about to laugh, but he turned around and headed for the coffee shop. Draco took a deep breath. Why had he just asked Potter to his flat? Merlin, he could be so _stupid_.

When his shift was up, Draco noticed his hands were shaking. He smoothed his hair back and took a deep breath. 

Potter was waiting for him near the entrance. He had to weave around Muggles to get to him, and a few shot him confused looks. He’d forgotten to hide his robes. There was a rule that a magical employee of the station had to remove any evidence of their _otherness_ if they chose not to use the magical entrance. 

“People think you are a performer,” Potter said, his mouth quirking. “You should hold out a hat and see if anyone gives you money.”

Draco laughed. “I’m sure I’d get written up, but I’ll think about it.”

They set off for his flat in silence. It was midday, and London was buzzing. There were just so many Muggles, so many sad sods who had to actually work at producing fire, who had to _pay_ for light. 

“Why are there so many of them?” Draco said.

“Muggles?”

Draco shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think they’re still all twisted up about contraception.”

“_Why?_”

Now it was Potter’s turn to shrug. “Dunno. I reckon it’s their religion. They think it’s murder.”

Draco snorted. “Ridiculous.”

They turned a few corners, and Potter was gazing around like he’d never seen a street before.

“What?”

“Are we close to your flat?”

“Yeah.”

“I expected you to live in a posh neighbourhood.”

Draco felt himself blush. “Well, I don’t.”

“I think that’s cool.”

“Of course you do.”

They stopped in front of his building, which was all right. Draco could smell all the tenants’ rubbish baking in the bins right off the street. He swallowed and guided Potter inside. 

“Lift’s broken,” Draco said, avoiding his eyes. Potter looked shocked. 

They took the stairs, climbing up and up, around and around. Draco was proud that he was supporting himself, but he wanted Potter to be impressed. He didn’t want to be pitied. 

His door had a big scratch in the paint. Draco had never noticed it before. He also hadn’t noticed all the scuff marks he’d made kicking it open when his hands were full.

He unlocked his door with a Muggle key and shouldered inside. “Sorry it’s so warm,” he said. “I’ll open some windows.”

“You have a telly.” Potter’s eyebrows looked like they were about to fly off his face.

“Pansy’s girlfriend gave it to me.”

“Wait. Girlfriend? Like—”

“Yes, like _girlfriend_. Like the girl she shags, or wants to shag.” Draco hitched a shoulder. “She’s a Muggle and doesn’t know that Pansy is a witch. It’s a stupid situation.”

Potter was blinking quickly. “I didn’t know. She must have changed a lot since school.”

“We all have,” Draco said, and headed for his kitchen. Thankfully, he only had a plate smeared with crumbs and old butter in his sink. “Want something to drink?”

“Water? I was drinking a lot of coffee waiting for you. Gave myself a bit of a headache.”

Draco frowned. “I’ve got a Pain Potion in my toilet cabinet.”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t like drinking potions on an empty stomach.”

Draco opened his refrigerator. The thing still mesmerised him. He liked to stick his head inside and let it cool his cheeks. “I could make us some sandwiches. I have some crisps, too.”

“Where?” Potter said, but he was already opening Draco’s cabinets. “Wow, you have a lot of Muggle junk food.”

Draco tried not to be embarrassed. “They make a lot of it. I’ve been eating my way through the biscuits and crisps at Tesco.” 

“I love Monster Munch.” Potter pulled out a bag.

“I haven’t tried it yet. I was afraid it was made from ghouls or something.”

Potter just looked at him. Then he started laughing. He laughed so much he teared up.

“It’s not that funny.” Draco grabbed the bag from him. He tore it open and tried a few. “Not bad.”

Potter nicked the bag and stuffed a big handful into his mouth. He grinned through the crumbs, and Draco laughed. 

Draco poured them both water. He made them sandwiches with his wand. They sat down at the wobbly table and dug in.

“Sorry the bread’s stale,” Draco said. 

“Don’t care,” Potter said around a bite.

Draco snorted. “You eat like a barbarian.”

This made Potter shrug. “I was raised in a cupboard. What did you expect?”

Draco took a neat bite. He chewed thoughtfully. “I’m surprised you can joke about it. I probably would’ve went back and blown up my aunt and uncle.”

Potter scrutinised him. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

“Okay, maybe not, but I definitely would have thought about it.”

“Oh, I think about it.”

“Do you regret anything?” Draco wanted to touch his chest where Potter had scarred him.

“Of course I regret things.”

“From the war, I mean.”

Potter lowered his eyes. Draco knew he was asking probing questions, _personal_ questions, but he was hungry to know more about Potter. 

“Yeah,” Potter breathed. “I made a lot of dumb decisions in the war.”

Draco was glad that Potter stared down at the table, because he couldn’t look away from his face. There was so much honest pain in his expression. Draco’s breath caught. 

“You were brave, though,” Draco whispered. “You were so brave.”

Potter shrugged. “I didn’t let myself think about it. I don’t know if that’s bravery or stupidity.”

“You weren’t given a choice.”

“No.” Sucking in a breath, Potter finally looked up. His gaze was hot, almost glittery. 

Draco stumbled over his next few words. “I—I wasn’t brave.” He played with his serviette. “I regret that now.”

“You showed bravery at the Manor. You recognised me. Of course you recognised me.”

Draco laughed, hating himself. “I had so many opportunities to try to kill him or Aunt Bellatrix or even Greyback. But I didn’t. I let them torture people right under my feet. I heard it, you know. I heard their screams, their pleas.”

The kitchen was silent except for the refrigerator grumbling in the corner. Draco couldn’t look at him. 

Potter reached across their plates and touched his hand. Draco shivered. 

“You were a child,” Potter said. “No one expected you to become an assassin. You were just trying to survive, and that’s okay.”

“How can _you_ of all people say that? We were the same age but the whole world expected you to carry their survival on your shoulders.” 

“Like you said, I didn’t have a choice. I’m sure if a prophecy had been made about you, you would have risen to the challenge.”

“Doubtful.” Draco felt tears brewing in his throat. He swallowed, horrified at the thought of crying in front of Potter.

Draco managed the courage to look up. They stared at one another, Potter still touching his hand. Draco wanted to intertwine their fingers. He wanted to lean forward and kiss him, even though his mouth would taste like Monster Munch. 

He would examine _why_ he seemed to be developing feelings for Potter later. He wanted to continue hating him. It was so safe to hate. He wouldn’t be rejected if he hated Potter.

He took his hand away and stood. He tried to take their plates, but Potter grabbed his and said, “No, I’m not done.”

“The sandwiches were rubbish.”

“No.” Potter shook his head.

“Fine.”

Draco scraped his food into the bin and washed his plate like a Muggle. Cleaning up after himself was still a new concept and it gave him pleasure. It also allowed him to put his back to Potter. 

“Can I see the rest of your flat?” Potter said, bringing his plate to the sink.

“I _reckoned_ you would,” Draco said. 

Potter flicked his shoulder. “Prat.”

_Does he know what he’s doing when he touches me like that?_

Draco finished up the dishes and dried his hands with his wand. “Come on, then. I’ll show you where the real magic happens.” He headed straight for his bedroom.

Potter stopped at the threshold. Draco plopped down on his bed, his legs wide. Potter was blushing. 

“I’m not going to bite,” Draco purred. 

“Shut up.” Potter took a hesitant step inside the room. “You have a lot of books.”

“I like to read.”

“Really?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I do have other hobbies outside trying to murder Headmasters.”

“I know that. I just didn’t think you were a reader.” Potter ran his hand along Draco’s collapsing bookcase. “You’re like Hermione, and it’s funny.”

“I’m more clever. She was just the one who got all the attention.”

“Snape gave you attention.”

“Yeah, he was the only one.”

Potter looked at him. “You really believe that?”

Draco shrugged. “Everyone _adored_ you, and they saw how much you hated me.”

“They saw what a bully you were.”

“I guess.”

Potter crept closer to the bed. He still didn’t sit down. “It sounds like you blame me for a lot of things that were entirely your fault.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t blame you. Not anymore. I’m older now and it’s easier for me to take responsibility for my actions.”

“Good.” Potter sat down on the edge of the bed, bracing most of his weight on the floor. Draco had the biggest urge to shove him. 

Draco rolled to his side. He propped his head on his hand. “What do you think about my bedroom?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

Potter dragged a hand over his forehead. “It’s hot in here. You need a window.”

“Yeah it is,” Draco said, and allowed himself to thrash a little like he was being fucked.

Potter was frowning at him. “What are you doing?”

Draco rolled until he was on his feet. “You say the worst shit to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You loved _taking me down_. You always had a witty comeback, and it infuriated me.”

Potter smirked. “You were asking for it. I was minding my own business, trying to learn magic, trying not to get blown up, and you were always there with something cruel to say.”

“It was the highlight of my day, what can I say?”

Potter laughed. “Finally you admit it.”

“I wasn’t aware that I had to admit anything.”

“You and Snape hated me so much and I didn’t understand why. Not initially.”

“You turned down my friendship! In front of other people! How else was I supposed to act?”

“I feel like we’re just going in circles. You were cruel to Neville and Hermione and Ron. _Of course_ I wasn’t going to be your friend.”

Draco sucked in a breath. “I wanted you to not like them. I wanted you to be _my_ friend.”

“You wanted to control me. Like you did to Crabbe and Goyle.”

It was like Draco had been slapped. He went still, his face incredibly warm. “They were my _friends_.”

“You bossed them around!”

“Oh, like Granger and Weasley didn’t follow you around, too? Everything was about _you_. They were just the extras.”

Potter’s mouth fell open. “They didn’t follow me around! They had their own lives!”

“And Vincent and Greg had their own lives, too! Sure, I was a bossy child, and sure, some of my jokes were too mean, but they _understood me_.”

“They understood you enough to let you control them.”

Draco stormed from the room. Potter followed. 

“I hate Gryffindors!” Draco yelled. He was circling his tiny lounge. There was nowhere to go.

“We didn’t like you either!”

Draco swerved to face him. “Do you like me now?”

“Of course I like you. Why would I be here if I didn’t?”

“You are so stupid!”

“No, I’m not!”

“I want you to _feel_ something. I want—I want -”

“Feel what?”

Draco tugged at his hair. “You are so stupid and I hate it!”

“I don’t understand.”

“Stop saying that!” Draco was yelling. 

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” Potter said. “You were nice to me only a few minutes ago and now you’re telling me you hate me.”

Draco fell back on his sofa. He grabbed his knees and exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“I should go.”

“No, don’t. We are always leaving in the middle of a fight.”

Potter crossed his arms. “It doesn’t seem like you want me around.”

Draco covered his face for a moment. “I do.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I open the desk.”

“And after?”

Draco shrugged. “Do you want me to see Teddy again?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to.”

“Where do you want to take him? You showed me your flat, so now you get to choose.”

“I wanted to take both of you to the Magical History Museum. There are exhibits for children. I thought he’d like it.”

“Oh.” Potter’s voice had softened. “That’s very nice.”

Draco glanced up at him. His expression was warm again and Draco couldn’t handle it. “We will go tomorrow then.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Draco said.

*

Draco couldn’t stop smiling when he saw Teddy. Teddy climbed into his arms and stared sternly into his eyes.

“You were gone,” Teddy said.

“I’m sorry.” Draco gave him a tight hug, then put him down. 

“You can’t leave.” Teddy took his hand and marched him into the museum. Grinning, Potter followed. 

The museum was the old location of the Wizengamot before they built the posh Ministry. It was a wooden Tudor house, collapsing on one side, the creaking floorboards scorched from fire. 

Everyone was just so tiny back then, and Draco and Potter had to duck their heads when entering rooms. They laughed shyly, still awkward from their fight the day before. 

“Where’s the toys?” Teddy asked.

“They are at the end of the tour,” Potter said. Teddy looked distraught. 

They joined a tour that was mostly just a queue for children. Draco had to elbow them out of the way to see the artifacts. 

“This cloak belonged to the great Morgana,” said the tour guide. “Back then, it was a vivid emerald, and now it’s unfortunately the colour of mud.”

“Ever consider magical restoration?” said a swotty older man.

“The museum doesn’t believe in certain types of restoration and you can always purchase our book about it in the gift shop.”

“I still find it weird that Merlin and Morgana were real people,” Potter said. “Most of the Muggles think it’s all myth.”

“Like that Jesus Christ bloke?” Draco said. 

Potter snorted. “How do you know about him?”

“A Muggle stopped me in the street, asking if I accepted him as my saviour. I said, ‘Who?’ I thought the bloke was going to faint.”

Potter covered his mouth and laughed, his shoulders shaking. Draco beamed. 

They arrived at a display of frayed rope and gnarled wands. 

“The English preferred to hang their witches,” said the guide cheerfully. “The Muggles would lock them up beforehand, so they always had time to prepare. Well, most of the time. The first witch to be hanged in England was poor Agnes Waterhouse, and the Muggles’ gall took her by surprise. They stripped her and put the noose around her neck before she even had time to cast a protective spell.” 

“Everyone knows the witches enjoyed their fake executions,” a girl said. “What was the spell they used?”

“Oh, we don’t like to repeat it. Not a very nice spell, no. It put the women to sleep and made their bodies as cold and stiff as stone, but it also had strange ramifications for the Muggles in the audience. Most died within a month of watching the execution, and scholars have yet to pinpoint what exactly about the spell caused that.”

There was hunger in the girl’s eyes. Draco almost laughed. 

They stomped down stairs so narrow and steep that to fall would easily break your neck. 

“There’s an Anti-falling Charm,” called the guide, and a few parents looked relieved. Potter and Draco held onto Teddy’s pudgy hands anyway. 

At the bottom was a strange interactive exhibit. It was a replica of a burning platform with the slogan: FEEL the Experience!

The guide waved her wand and fire consumed the wood under the platform. “Like I said, English Muggles liked to hang their witches, but a good burning was not uncommon. Most of the witches ‘burned’ were in Italy. So, step up and experience it for yourself!”

“Will it hurt?” asked an American tourist. 

“No, no. It mimics the wonderful tingling sensation witches felt when the Muggles tried to burn them to death.”

“What do you say, Ted?” Draco said. “Want to try it?”

Teddy shook his head. He looked terrified of the fire.

“I’m not sure if he’s old enough,” Potter said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Let’s try it together. Just you and me.”

“All right.”

They stepped onto the platform, which was a tight space. To fit, they had to press together, chest to chest. Draco tilted his head just slightly to grin at Potter. 

“Can you feel it?” Potter asked. 

Draco ignored him. “I’m taller than you.”

“Not by much.”

Draco leaned closer. He whispered in his ear, “_Still_.”

Potter shoved him playfully. Draco rocked back just a little, then let himself move even closer. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm tingling around his feet. 

“Feels nice,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Potter said. 

They were _touching_, and Draco could feel the heat of his body. He wondered what Potter was thinking. Part of him didn’t even care. He turned his head and his nose brushed his unruly hair. Draco took a deep, silent breath. Potter smelled wonderful. 

Then it was someone else’s turn and they had to step off. Draco glanced at Potter and found that his face was quite pink. 

“I want toys,” Teddy said, dragging them to the children exhibits. 

“That was fun.” Draco smirked.

“It was strange,” Potter said. 

Teddy was given a fake wand and protection emblem, and they watched as he battled holograms of Muggles and dark wizards. 

“I don’t want him to dislike Muggles.” Potter was frowning.

“Next time, we will take him to a museum that celebrates them.”

“Good idea!” Potter smiled at him. Draco smiled back. _Next time._

*

Harry had begun to dread his dinners with Ron and Hermione. He was on his way to their cottage, which was a Floo ride and a quaint walk away from Grimmauld Place.

He felt bad that he didn’t want to see them more often, but their need to touch each other all the time made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t minded it when he and Ginny were still together, but now it felt like a slap in the face. To make matters worse, Ginny hadn’t owled him in weeks. Part of him had expected it. The other part had wanted her to miss him enough to reach out. 

Shaking his head, he arrived at the blue door of their cottage. There was a nice breeze that rustled the trees and cooled his neck. He took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Harry!” Hermione said when she ushered him inside. The place smelled like wonderful roasted chicken. 

He gave her a hug and thanked her for inviting him. She slapped his arm. 

“Don’t thank me like you are a guest. We miss you!”

He smiled apologetically. “I’ve been busy with Teddy.”

They went into the kitchen. Ron handed Harry a beer. 

“It’s been too long,” Ron said.

Harry took a drink and focused on the beer label. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

“Is Andromeda getting worse?” Hermione said.

“No,” Harry said, thinking. “I’ve just been busy taking Teddy out with Malfoy.”

They blinked at him. 

“What?” Ron said.

Harry flushed. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Did you know he worked the service desk at King’s Cross?”

“Malfoy has taken an interest in Teddy?” Hermione was frowning. 

“I kind of asked him to,” Harry said.

Ron’s mouth was hanging open. “You’ve been talking to _Malfoy_?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and laughed uneasily. “He’s changed. I think we’re even mates.”

Ron’s face turned red for some reason. “You’re not mates! You could never be mates with him.”

“Why not?”

“I heard he was living as a Muggle,” Hermione said.

“Who told you that?” Harry said.

She shrugged. “It’s just something I heard in the canteen at work. It might have been a couple of former Slytherins gossiping.”

“Well, he’s not living as a Muggle, not really.”

“What does that mean?” Ron took a shaky sip of beer. 

“His job is magical. He uses magic. He just does Muggle things too.”

“Have you done Muggle things with him?” Hermione looked very interested.

“Ah . . . we’ve gone to the park and got hamburgers. He goes to the _cinema_ now.”

She was scrutinising him. “Have you heard from Ginny?”

Ron coughed and rubbed his nose.

“No,” Harry said. “I thought she’d owl but she never did.”

“Do you want her to owl?” Hermione was still observing him. 

“I—well—” He glanced at Ron. 

Ron raised his hands. “Gin has told me nothing. She barely communicates. Too busy with her big-shot Quidditch training.”

Hermione’s wand started beeping. “The chicken is ready!”

They set the table, and Ron produced a steaming loaf of bread from the cupboard. “I made it myself!” he said, beaming. 

They sat down to eat, a few candle flames dancing between them. The cottage was small with an extra room. Ron and Hermione were already planning for their first child. 

As Harry ate, he couldn’t help noticing Hermione’s engagement ring. The small diamond winked at him. He’d wanted to buy Ginny a ring like that. He’d wanted to see her wear it and know that she was someone who would always be there for him. 

“The veg is top notch,” Harry said.

“Thanks!” Hermione was smiling widely, showing off her rabbit teeth. They’d come back after the war. 

Harry wanted to sit down with Malfoy for a dinner like this. He’d pull out Grimmauld’s old candlesticks. He’d blow the dust off the liquor cabinet. Maybe he’d even figure out a way to play some films. 

Malfoy probably looked good in candlelight. His skin would be golden, and his eyes would shimmer. Harry wanted to watch him eat. He wanted to see his mouth wrap around his fork, slowly, carefully. Would Malfoy turn shy? Would he smirk and roll his eyes? Harry could already hear him. _Stop staring at me, Potter. I’m starting to think you’re a bit touched._

Ron suddenly put down his knife and fork. “Why is Malfoy working at all? I thought the Malfoys were drowning in money?”

“They are,” Harry said. “Malfoy told me it’s because his father won’t pay for him.”

Ron looked stunned. “And Malfoy just accepts that? I don’t believe it.”

“Why would he work when he could just sit on his toff arse?” Hermione said.

Harry and Ron laughed. They always found it funny when she got snippy. 

“I want to meet him,” she said.

“You’ve already met the bugger!” Ron said. “We had to deal with him for seven years!”

“Six,” Harry said. “I know what she means. He’s so different it’s like meeting a stranger.”

“Well, I for one will not be joining the Malfoy fan club,” Ron said. “You both sound mad.”

“I feel a bit mad,” Harry said.

“What do you mean?” Hermione said. 

He shrugged. “Dunno, really. I just do.”

Hermione glanced at Ron, who opened his mouth to speak. Hermione shook her head.

“What is it?” Harry said impatiently. 

“We just don’t want you to be lonely,” she said.

Harry wanted to throw something. “I don’t need your pity, thank you.”

“We don’t pity you!”

“Yeah, mate.”

“Then what is it? Do you want to set me up with someone?”

Ron grimaced. “No . . . but there is this woman who comes into my shop . . .”

“But it’s not the right time to bring her up!” Hermione said quickly.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Perhaps Ginny will take you back,” Ron said.

“Our break was amicable! She didn’t dump me.”

“Also, you seem a bit distracted by Malfoy,” Hermione said.

Harry gaped. “I’m not distracted by him!”

Ron was gaping, too. “What are you trying to say, Hermione?”

“Nothing, _nothing_. Let’s just finish our dinner.”

They focused on their food, but conversation was limited. Ron looked like he was trying not to choke.

When they finished, Harry and Hermione ventured into the garden while Ron cleaned up. It almost came to a wizard’s duel when Harry refused to step away from the sink. 

The garden was luscious and sweet, and they sat among the bobbing peonies. Harry stared up at the darkening sky, trying not to think about anything. He wondered what Malfoy was doing right now. He wondered if he was enjoying his evening.

“Are you thinking about Malfoy again?” Hermione asked gently.

Harry blinked in surprise. “How did you know?”

She shrugged. “Lucky guess. Do you think about him often?”

“Yeah, strangely. And it’s not because I think he’s up to something again.”

She nodded.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “I know sixth year was rubbish because I couldn’t stop talking about him.”

“Ron was snogging Lavender Brown in front of me! _That’s_ what made the year rubbish.” She frowned and kicked at a bit of grass. “Malfoy also let in Death Eaters. Bill almost lost his life. The barmiest things happened to us at Hogwarts.”

“It’s strange that nothing happens there now,” Harry said. “No student has to fight Voldemort every year. There’s no snake in the pipes.”

“You never know—there’s probably a sleeping dragon somewhere in the dungeons. Only the right group of friends will find it.”

“I’m sure Fred and George would’ve found it.”

“They were looking for ways _out_; they weren’t looking for magical creatures.”

They both laughed. Harry didn’t know why he’d dreaded coming here. He loved his friends. He really did. 

They were quiet for a moment, smiles lingering on their faces. 

“I think it’s good you’re getting over Ginny,” Hermione said.

Harry frowned. “I don’t think I am getting over her.”

Hermione seemed to struggle with her expression. “She will come back sooner than later. You should make the break-up official then.”

“I don’t want to break up with her!” His voice was too loud. He fell silent, trying to remember when he’d lost the plot. 

He _had_ been okay with the break. He hadn’t been heartbroken when Ginny left. He knew she wasn’t his future, not really, especially with Teddy. 

But Malfoy had changed that. Malfoy had made Harry want Ginny more. Harry didn’t understand why. 

“I’m so confused,” Harry said. 

Hermione touched his hand. “It’s okay.”

He stood. “I should head off.”

She stood too and gave him a big hug. She was so small in his arms, it was weird. 

“You don’t need to walk me to the Floo,” he said.

“You could always use ours.”

“No, I don’t like how it throws me around.”

“The one at Grimmauld Place is worse!”

He laughed. “It is.”

She squeezed his arm. “Take care of yourself. Write to me. I will never judge you.”

“You’ve judged me loads of times!”

“When? You can’t count any time before the age of seventeen. I wasn’t even the same _person_.”

He laughed and went inside to say goodbye to Ron.

“Leaving already?” Ron said, wiping the soapsuds from his hands. 

“I’m knackered,” Harry said, even though he wasn’t. “We’ll get lunch soon. I promise.”

Ron nodded, but his gaze was skeptical, a little hurt. Harry was almost to the door when Ron said, “I don’t want my sister to come between us. I don’t want _anyone_ to come between us.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harry said.

*

When Harry arrived home, he sat down heavily and tried not to feel like the loneliest bloke in the world. There was scurrying above his head, and his first thought was rats, but you never knew in Grimmauld Place.

He turned on his wireless with his wand and tried to focus on the sports program, but he didn’t want to hear about the Harpies. 

Sighing, he waved it off and tapped his fingers on his thighs. He wanted to see Malfoy, that was the truth of it. He wanted to see Malfoy but he didn’t want to be a nuisance. He didn’t want Malfoy to reject him. 

_Sod it_. He jumped up and grabbed a Muggle jacket. He would just pop by Malfoy’s to see if he wanted to get a drink. No big deal. 

It took him a few minutes to remember the alley next to Malfoy’s flat in enough detail to Apparate. If he traveled with a pint on his mind, he sometimes ended up in the alley next to his favourite pub, which wasn’t close to Malfoy at all. 

He spun and felt the terrible squeezing. When he landed, he opened his eyes and grinned in relief. Success. 

Luckily, the door of Malfoy’s building was unlocked. The lift was still broken, so Harry took the winding stairs all the way up. 

At Malfoy’s door, he knocked before he could doubt himself. He was breathing a little hard. 

The telly switched off and the door opened a crack. “Yes?” 

“You’re in a dressing gown.”

Malfoy glared and opened the door wider. He wore a velvety emerald dressing gown and his hair was a bit messy. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

Harry shrugged, trying to ignore his thumping heart. Why was he so nervous about asking Malfoy for a pint? Why was it so important to him?

“Get a pint with me,” he said.

Malfoy blinked, then his cheeks flushed. “Oh, but I’m not dressed.”

“Doesn’t matter! It’s just me.”

“Just you,” Malfoy repeated quietly. He was already heading to his toilet, leaving Harry in the doorway. “Watch some telly or something. I won’t be long.”

Harry closed the door and suddenly he was alone in Malfoy’s lounge. He was alone with Malfoy’s _things_.

Malfoy really owned a ridiculous amount of books. They were stacked on his coffee table and in corners. He needed another bookcase, but Harry understood why he didn’t have one. The little lounge was already too crowded. 

Harry read some of the titles, expecting references to dark magic or blood purity, but most of them were fiction. There were even some that were obviously Muggle with their plastic covers and unmoving images. He was currently reading _Assassin's Quest_ by Robin Hobb. Harry read the synopsis and laughed. It was a fantasy novel with tons of magic written by a Muggle. 

Harry sat down on the sofa, which was old and sagging, and a glass of water was at his elbow. Malfoy’s shoes were next to the door and there was even a pair of trainers. The walls were bare for the most part, but Malfoy had stuck the Hogwarts Crest and a map of medieval London above the sofa. Harry rubbed his sweaty hands on his thighs. His heart was still pounding hard. 

When Malfoy returned, his hair was damp but perfectly coiffed. He wore trousers and a short sleeve blue shirt. He Summoned his black Oxfords and sat next to Harry to put them on like a Muggle. His cologne smelled so good that Harry leaned closer without thinking. 

Malfoy straightened up, and Harry moved back. “What?” Malfoy said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me strangely.”

“I am?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy stood to make sure his shirt was evenly tucked. Harry couldn’t look away. How the hell did he get his trousers to fit so well? His legs looked so long and his arse looked like he played professional Quidditch or something.

_It’s a spell_, Harry thought. 

Harry held up the Hobb book. “You read Muggle fantasy novels?”

Malfoy looked confused for a moment. “Oh,” he said, then shrugged. “Muggles think magic does the strangest things.”

“There’s a dragon on the cover.”

Malfoy shrugged again, but his cheeks were a little pink. “That book doesn’t even have dragons. They are like statues or something.”

“Ready?” Harry said, already feeling warm in his jacket. 

“Yes.” Malfoy looked nervous.

A few minutes later, they were heading down the street in no particular direction. It was cooler out here than in Malfoy’s flat. Harry heard murmuring tellies and smelled cooking dinners. Windows blazed like yellow eyes. They were nearing a busy intersection with growling cars.

“Have a pub in mind?” Harry asked.

“You’re the one who asked me!”

He shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“I don’t really go to pubs. Pansy likes to dance and she doesn’t like pubs because there are too many straight blokes.” Malfoy’s eyes widened and his cheeks flamed again.

“She doesn’t like straight blokes?” 

Malfoy shook his head mutely. Harry waited for him to explain, but he stared down at his shoes. 

“Do you mind the pub?” Harry said finally. “We can go somewhere else . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t care.” 

“I know one that is close,” Harry said. At least, he thought he knew one. They went down a few wrong streets before finding it. 

“Is it Muggle?” Malfoy frowned.

“Yeah . . . I thought that would be okay.”

“It is.”

The pub was called the Blackfriar and it was packed with tourists and business blokes. They found a table in the corner and a harassed waiter asked them for drink and food orders. 

Malfoy scanned the menu, which was big and plastic. “I’ll have the ham and cheese toastie and your pale ale.”

“I’ll have your Monkey Shoulder,” Harry said, handing over his menu.

“25 or 50?” asked the waiter.

Harry thought about it. “50.”

When the waiter left, Harry said, “I didn’t know you were hungry.”

Malfoy smirked. “Do you not like that I ordered food? Does it make it too much like a date?”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “I haven’t been on many dates, but you’re not crying and talking about your dead girlfriend, so I don’t think this counts.”

“Who cried?”

“Cho Chang. It was right after Cedric’s death and she was trying to make me his replacement.”

“Oh, so when you said ‘girlfriend,’ you were referring to her boyfriend.”

“Yeah.” Harry frowned. “Cho isn’t like that.”

Malfoy shrugged. “She could be, you never know.”

“She was dating boys at Hogwarts! People don’t change that much.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you.”

“What? It’s true.”

“It’s not true!”

“If she wanted to date girls at school, she would have. But she didn’t. She dated boys, therefore she likes boys.”

“Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable dating girls!”

“Why wouldn’t she feel comfortable?”

“Merlin, Potter! Are you really this stupid?”

“Most of the students were accepting! Maybe it was different in Slytherin, but she wasn’t in Slytherin. She was in the same house as Luna for god’s sake!”

“And everybody _hated_ Lovegood. They loved taking the piss. That isn’t acceptance!”

“I think it’s rich of you to talk about being cruel at school. You were the biggest instigator!”

“No I wasn’t! The older boys were worse by far.”

Harry crossed his arms. “_I_ would have accepted her.”

“Oh, bully for you.” Malfoy’s face was very red. He opened his mouth to continue, but the waiter interrupted by dropping off their drinks and his toastie. 

Harry sipped his whiskey, which tasted like vanilla. He smacked his lips. “I don’t understand why you think you know what it was like for . . . gay students at Hogwarts.”

Malfoy took an angry bite of his toastie. His eyes were focused on the wall, and they looked wet like he was about to cry. “You don’t know anything about me, Potter.”

“We should play a game then. Help us get to know each other.”

“I’m not in the _mood_ for games.”

“Come on, Malfoy. Don’t be scared.”

Malfoy glowered at him. He put down his toastie and wiped his hands. “Fine. What’s the game?”

“Speed Facts. We take turns saying facts about the other person and when we hit three untruths, we take a drink.”

Malfoy grinned, his eyebrows arching a bit. “You’re going to lose.”

“Also, you have ale and I have whiskey, so I will sip my drink and you will gulp.”

“Sounds good.”

They stared at one another, then Harry said, “You had your own room growing up.”

“False. I had _multiple_ rooms.”

“That doesn’t count! You still didn’t share a bedroom.”

“Then you should have phrased it that way. You still lose.”

Harry glared. “Fine. Your turn.”

“You lived in a cupboard.”

“You have to say something not so obvious! Everyone knows that I grew up in a cupboard.”

“You’re changing the rules now.”

“I’m making the game _fair_.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. He was thinking. “You were bullied before Hogwarts.”

Harry opened his mouth. _Obviously_ he was bullied, but he wasn’t sure if any of the biographies had mentioned his experience at Muggle primary school. “What makes you think that?”

Malfoy dragged a chip in ketchup. “The way you immediately hated me. Your clothes.”

“I was careful not to wear my Muggle clothes at Hogwarts.”

“I still noticed.”

“You reminded me of my cousin. He was always trying to beat me up.”

“I read about that.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You read about me?”

Malfoy hitched a shoulder. “Everyone reads about you. It’s hard not to.”

“Right.” Harry focused on the game again. “Your father taught you how to ride a broom.”

“False. He hired tutors.”

“Damn.”

“You fancied Granger sometime before fifth year.”

Harry laughed loudly. “No way!”

“You barely left her side!”

“She was my best friend.”

“Weasley was your best friend.”

“It’s possible to have more than one best friend.” Harry rubbed his hands together, contemplating. “Your first snog was with Pansy Parkinson.”

Malfoy shook his head, bemused. “You must think I was some kind of a ladies’ man at Hogwarts.”

“You were popular at the very least.”

“I was popular with Slytherins.”

“I’m sure there were Slytherin girls who would have snogged you.”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. “What makes you so sure?”

Harry was trying to remember what it was like. Malfoy had always seemed to be surrounded by Slytherins. They were always laughing at his jokes. There had been girls around him, too. “You were the Slytherin Seeker. That’s impressive.”

“No, it wasn’t! Not when I was always losing to you!”

Harry smirked. “You _did_ always lose.”

“Oh, shut up.” Malfoy finished off his toastie. 

Harry sat back in his chair, just watching Malfoy. “What am I not understanding?”

“Aren’t we playing a game?”

“Things aren’t adding up. Everything you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

“I wasn’t aware that this was an interrogation.”

“Can’t you just answer my question?”

“I’ve been answering your questions! That’s all I’ve been doing. Ever since you first saw me at work.”

“I’m trying to get to know you. I’m trying to be your friend.”

“No, you’re not! You’re just using me to reaffirm your worldview. That’s the real reason why you’re asking me all these questions. You still aren’t over the shock of seeing me working at King’s Cross. You want to catch me doing something terrible, something bigoted, so you can go about your life _knowing_ you were never wrong about me.”

“Fuck,” Harry said, and drowned his whiskey in one go. He coughed and tried to hide it. 

“Great idea.” Malfoy chugged his pint. He slammed it to the table. “You live in a bubble, Potter. A straight, stupid bubble.”

Harry threw some money down and stood. “Are you finished? Let’s go back to mine.”

Malfoy blinked up at him. “Okay.”

They left the pub and found a quiet alley. “Want to Side-Along?” Harry said.

“No,” Malfoy said stiffly. “See you there.” He Disapparated. Harry followed.

“My world _is_ small,” Harry said, opening his front door for Malfoy, who had landed outside Grimmauld Place.

“I assumed you had wards.”

“I don’t want my world to be small. I don’t want to live in a bubble.”

Malfoy pushed past him. “Where’s your liquor cabinet? I want to get pissed.”

Harry Summoned a few glasses from the kitchen. “It’s in the corner, but I don’t trust anything in there.”

“Why not?” Malfoy found the cabinet and sank to his knees to inspect the wine and liquor bottles. He opened a few and sniffed. “You have some good stuff and you don’t even know it.”

Harry handed him the glasses. “Pour us one you think will be good.”

“Okay.” Malfoy chose a dusty emerald bottle. The wine was dark as blood. Harry took a sip and grimaced hard. “No, knock it back! The real magic happens once it’s in your stomach.”

Harry knocked back the rest. He grimaced, but the aftertaste wasn’t bad. “Kind of tastes like strawberry.”

“Yeah.” Malfoy was still on the floor. Harry was standing a little in front of him. Malfoy smirked at him. “Do you like seeing me on my knees?”

“No.” Harry stepped back.

Malfoy stood gracefully. “Too bad.” He plopped down on the sofa.

Harry joined him. It felt nice to not have his jacket on, which he’d flung on the troll leg. Malfoy practically sprawled, his legs wide, his right arm stretching out past Harry’s shoulder. Harry felt the heat of it. 

“Want a tour?” Harry said suddenly.

“I suppose,” Malfoy said, then the corner of his mouth quirked. “Show me your toilet. The one you use all the time. I’m sure the bathtub is _revolting_.”

“It isn’t,” Harry said. “All the bathrooms are self-cleaning. I reckon it’s ancient charms.”

“Not that ancient. The lavatories at the Manor were installed in the 1800s and they don’t clean themselves, so yours must be from circa 1920s.”

“You were using a lavatory from the 1800s?”

“Yeah, you had to reach up and pull a string,” Malfoy said. “It was probably one of the reasons why the Dark Lord lived with us. Our toilets reminded him of his childhood.”

Harry shivered in disgust. He didn’t want to think about Voldemort and bodily functions _at all_. “You still call him the Dark Lord.”

“I do,” Malfoy said cautiously. 

“Why?”

Malfoy fell silent. His gaze became faraway and his mouth softened. 

Harry nudged him with his shoulder. “You can tell me.”

“What’s there to tell? I will always be deathly afraid of the monster.”

“He’s gone! He’s never coming back.”

Malfoy cringed. “That’s _very_ easy for you to say.”

“I’d protect you if he ever came back.”

Malfoy burst out laughing. He laughed for too long.

“I’m serious,” Harry said. “I would never let anything happen to you or Hermione or anyone.”

“You can’t promise that. You can never promise that.”

“If Voldemort came back? I’d fight to the death to protect anyone I cared about.”

Malfoy’s eyes fluttered. “You care about me?”

Harry felt himself flush, but he didn’t know why. There was nothing to be embarrassed about. “Of course!”

Malfoy Summoned the emerald bottle and poured them more. “I can’t do this sober.”

“What do you mean?” Harry knocked back the liquor. 

“You being such an earnest Gryffindor. I can’t handle it.” He stood, just a little wobbly. “What do you want to show me?”

“Not my toilet.” Harry pushed himself to his feet. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Malfoy grabbed the liquor bottle. As they went upstairs, he drank from it. 

They went into Sirius’ old room, which was exactly how he’d left it. All Harry had done was clean up Snape’s mess. 

“I thought he was bent?” Malfoy said, pointing at the yellowed bikini women. 

“What?”

“That’s what my mum said.”

Harry’s mind was turning. “No—I mean—I never really thought about it.”

“You mean he didn’t talk about his sex life with you? _Shocking_.”

“Just because he didn’t talk about it doesn’t mean he was bent. Maybe he was waiting for the right girl.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting, Potter.” Malfoy took another swallow from the bottle, then gave it to Harry.

“How am I projecting? I’m sure someone would have said something to me if he was gay.” Harry drank deeply. 

They went to Regulus’ room and the guest rooms. Malfoy started identifying the portraits. “That’s Orion Patroclus Black. His mum was a Malfoy.”

“Sebastiana Rose Malfoy!” said the portrait. 

“Yes, I remember her,” Malfoy said. “Her portrait was near my bedroom. You could never talk to her because she’d keep you there all day.”

“I thought you had more than one bedroom?”

“Pardon, she was near _one_ of my bedrooms.”

“You are such an arse.” Harry pushed him a little, and Malfoy felt warm and strong. 

“I like it when you touch me.” Malfoy waggled his eyebrows stupidly.

“Shut up.” Harry drank again. “I get it, okay? I live in a bubble.”

“Ask me again about my girlfriend.” Malfoy laughed.

“Wait, so you do have a girlfriend? Is it a Greengrass?”

“Perhaps.” Malfoy yanked the bottle from him. He took a long pull, and some of the liquor splashed his shirt. “Fuck.”

They wandered back to the parlour, and Harry’s head was beginning to spin. “Let’s play that game again!”

“Not this again.” Draco draped himself over a chair instead of the sofa. He cradled the bottle, and when Harry tried grabbing for it, he clutched it closer. “Get your own.”

“Fine.” Harry went to the cabinet and pulled out a bluish wine. He swallowed some without thinking about it. “Ugh.”

“Dragon’s Blood.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what you’re drinking.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. That’s the name of the wine.”

“It tastes like shit.”

“Yeah.”

Harry swallowed some more. Malfoy wasn’t the only one feeling a bit reckless. “You were a lonely child.”

“I guess I was.”

“You guess?”

“Objects aren’t friends. Vincent and Greg came to the Manor to play with me, but I don’t think they had much of a choice.”

“You didn’t seem close to them.”

“Depends on your definition of close.” Malfoy closed an eye. “Ginny Weasley never sucked your cock.”

Harry felt his face turn bright red. “Yes, she did!”

“Did you like it?”

“Of course.”

Malfoy gave him a level look. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure!” Harry sat up straighter. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Sometimes girls aren’t good at those things.”

“Has a girl . . . sucked you off?”

Smiling widely, Malfoy said, “What do you think?”

“I think so.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re rich and attractive and you have confidence.”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Harry frowned. “Well, yeah. I reckon most people would think you were attractive.”

“Good.” Malfoy was almost posing in the chair. “You never comb your hair.”

“I comb my hair.”

“Damn, I guess I have to drink more.” Malfoy took several gulps. 

Harry snorted.

They continued drinking and stating facts about one another. It soon became apparent that they were utterly pissed. Their facts became more ridiculous as the night wore on. 

At some point, Malfoy switched on the wireless and waltzed around the room by himself. Harry lay on the sofa, eyes barely open. 

“You can talk to dragons,” Harry said.

“No, that’s you.”

“I _used_ to be able to talk to snakes. Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“It disappeared when Riddle died.”

“Why do you sometimes say Riddle and other times say Vold—you know?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Sometimes I feel like I’m letting Dumbledore down when I say Voldemort. He was always pushing me to see the weak man beneath the evil name.”

“You can’t let him down. He’s dead.” The song on the wireless changed to something slower. “Come over here and dance with me.”

“I can’t dance.”

“I’ll show you. Come on.”

Harry wouldn’t have accepted if he wasn’t pissed, but he was and his better judgment had fucked off. He staggered over to Malfoy, who grabbed his hands and barked at him to straighten his back.

“Dancers _always_ have good posture.”

“Okay.” 

“Follow my lead. Don’t look down.”

“But—I’m going to step on your toes.”

“No, you’re not.”

Malfoy began their waltz and Harry tripped on their feet. He clung to Malfoy to stay upright.

“_Potter_.”

“Sorry.” Harry rested his cheek on Malfoy’s shoulder. 

“You’re a disaster.” Malfoy was carding his fingers through Harry’s hair.

“You’re touching me.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you petting my head?”

“No.”

Harry took a deep breath and clung closer. The room was spinning. “I’m so pissed.”

“I know.”

“Are you pissed?”

“Very.”

Harry lifted his heavy head and held Malfoy’s face with both hands. He stared into Malfoy’s hooded gaze. “You don’t sound pissed.”

“Your face is red.”

“Your eyes are beautiful.”

Malfoy blinked. “Thank you.”

“They _are_. They are grey and blue. I think I even see some brown.”

Malfoy shivered. “I never thought you’d say something like that to me.”

“It’s the truth.”

Malfoy caressed Harry’s cheek with his knuckles. “Your skin is very soft.”

“I shaved today!” Harry closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together. “You are my friend.”

“Thank you.” Malfoy kissed his cheek.

“Now you have to do the other.”

Malfoy hesitated. He gently turned Harry’s head so he could kiss his other cheek, then the spot right below his ear. 

“Your lips feel nice.” 

“Potter.”

“Say my first name.”

“No.”

Harry hugged him closely. He tried whispering in his ear: “_Come on_, say it.”

But Malfoy just hugged him back. They stood there, arms wrapped around each other. Malfoy buried his face in Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply. 

“Draco.”

Malfoy made a muffled sound. He grabbed Harry’s hips, his hold hard, and moved against him just a little. Then he pulled away. 

“I need to go home,” Malfoy said.

Harry could barely breathe and he didn’t know why. He was disappointed. “I have guest rooms! So many empty beds! You can stay here.”

“No, that’s not a good idea.” Malfoy ran a hand over his face. He was shaking. 

“Are you going to sick up?”

“No—maybe. I just need to leave.” Malfoy staggered to the front door. He was outside and down the steps before Harry caught up. 

“Take care!” Harry yelled. Malfoy waved him off. 

Harry’s head was spinning painfully now. His stomach tightened like a fist. Fuck, he didn’t want to vomit. 

He found his way to his bedroom. He stripped off his shirt and jeans and discovered he was hard. He stroked himself, thinking. What had made him aroused? Malfoy hugging him had felt nice, but it hadn’t been arousing.

_I’m hornier than I thought_. Harry slipped into bed and fell asleep with his mouth open and his glasses still on.

*

“Draco!” There was pounding on his front door. “Open up!”

Draco stared at the door from his sofa. He was fifty pages from finishing _Assassin’s Quest_ and he didn’t feel like talking to Pansy.

More pounding. “DRACO!”

“Piss off!”

“Oh, now you’re answering me. I hope you know the Muggles can hear us. One is staring at me right now. YOU LIVE NEXT TO A WIZARD. MAGIC EX—”

Draco flung open the door. “Get in here, you _cow_.”

Pansy was alone in the corridor. “Good morning.” She pushed him aside to enter his lounge. 

He slammed the door closed and stuffed a bookmark angrily into his paperback. “What the hell do you want?”

“You were ignoring my owls. I wanted to make sure the Muggles hadn’t made you throw yourself from a window or something.” She stared at him. “You’ve been crying.”

“This is why I was avoiding you!”

“Because you didn’t want me to know you were crying?”

“I wasn’t crying!”

She squinted at him. “Yes, you were.”

“I hate you,” he spat. 

“Do you still have that orange Muggle drink?” She went into his kitchen to comb through his refrigerator.

He watched as she poured the last of his orangeade for herself. “I was saving that.”

“Just go back to the Muggle shop. It’s not like it’s rare.” She drank deeply and licked her full lips. “Yum!”

“Did I already say that I hate you?”

“Yes, but say it again just so I know.” She sat down at his table and kicked the other chair. “Join me.”

“Don’t kick my furniture. It’s from Ikea and practically made from matchsticks.” 

She shook her head. “Of all the people I thought would become Muggle lovers, you were never, ever on the list.”

“That’s quite rich coming from you.”

She shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“We are not talking about me. We are talking about _you_.”

“I don’t want to talk about me.”

“Is it about Potter?”

They glared at one another. Draco was grinding his teeth.

“I should have never told you that I was seeing him,” he said.

“Well, you did.” Her eyes softened. “What did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything!” Draco covered his face, his heart pounding. He said into his palm: “I fancy him.”

There was silence. He glanced up and found her with a blank expression. “Oh, fuck off!”

“What?”

“Aren’t you surprised? Shocked?”

Now she looked bored. “Draco, darling. It’s obvious.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “What?”

“It’s _obvious_.”

“Since when?”

“Since bloody first year.”

He was sputtering. “But—how?”

“How?” She cackled.

“Don’t you dare ridicule me.”

She sobered. “I’m sure Potter never sensed it. He was too busy chasing after Ginny Weasley. But who can blame him? That _arse_.” She looked dreamy.

“He’s still hung up on her.”

Pansy snorted. “That’s pathetic. Rumor is she’s shagging Viktor Krum.”

“Oh, no.” Draco laughed. 

“_Yeah._”

“When do you think Potter will find out?”

“She should have already told him! The _Prophet_ is bound to publish it soon.”

He looked down at his hands. “I made a fool of myself with him.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Not in words. We were pissed and I kissed his cheeks.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“We were hugging each other and I—I became aroused.”

Her eyes widened. “Why were you hugging each other?”

“I don’t know! We were pissed.”

“You don’t think he fancies you, too?”

“No way! It’s Potter we’re talking about. He’s just so _innocent_.”

She was thinking. “Maybe he doesn’t know it yet. It’s not like he had time to _experiment_. He was too busy having a threesome with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord.”

“How could he not know it yet?”

“Not everyone is like you. Not everyone just _knows_ they are bent.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“Maybe he’s bi.”

Malfoy worked his mouth. He didn’t want Potter to be bi. He wanted Potter to be gay. He wanted him all to himself. “If he’s bi, then I’m doomed. No way would he choose me over a girl. He wants children, for Merlin’s sake.”

“You never know.” She finished off the orangeade. “Want to go to the cinema?”

He perked up. “Yeah, I do.” 

The first showing wasn’t for another hour, so they wasted time in a dodgy park near Draco’s flat. The clouds looked like dirty seafoam and the breeze felt hot and metallic. He was still getting used to living in a city. Muggles seemed to love rubbish. They decorated everything with it. 

“How is Gwen?”

“Jennifer, you mean.”

“Oh, I keep forgetting her name.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “I know.”

“Have you told her yet?”

“Nope.” Pansy stared determinedly ahead. 

“Have you snogged her yet?”

“Almost.”

“All you can do is crack on, though you should tell her the truth.”

“I’m waiting for the right time.”

“You’ve been saying that for _months_.”

Pansy’s mouth stiffened. “I don’t need you lecturing me.”

“I’m merely pointing out a fact.”

They were the first to arrive at the cinema. The bloke behind the counter yawned loudly and scratched at his spots. Draco wanted to reprimand him for terrible customer service. 

They examined the listings and landed on the _The Mummy Returns_.

“You think they filmed a real mummy?” Pansy said.

“No way,” Draco said in a hushed voice. “The entire cast and crew would’ve been cursed.”

Pansy shivered in delight. “Let’s see that one.”

Inside it smelled like the aftermath of a duel. Draco wiggled his nose, not wanting to be reminded of the terrible duels at the Manor. Sometimes Greyback forgot to take a person’s wand before bringing them to the Manor to be thrown into the dungeon, the absolute _fool_.

Draco got a hot dog and Pansy got ice cream. The theater was mostly empty and they sat up front. They liked how the images towered over them. 

“Where are their wands?” Pansy said loudly whenever the characters performed magic.

Draco didn’t respond. She said this during every film with magic. 

“I think this is a sequel,” he said later. “Did you see the first one?”

“No.” Pansy sucked on her spoon. “Evelyn is fit.”

“Is that the mum?”

“Yeah.” 

“I like the father’s hair. Not a strand out of place, even when he’s throwing knives and jumping from windows.”

“I bet you also fancy the bloke with the face tattoos.”

Draco smirked. “I do.”

Later, Pansy elbowed him. “The Pharaoh’s daughter was totally shagging the Mummy’s girlfriend.” 

“No she wasn’t!”

“Yeah! I haven’t seen many films, but I already know what it means when two women are fighting with barely any clothes.”

“Wishful thinking.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and didn’t talk for the rest of the film, which was more than all right with Draco. 

As they left, Pansy squeezed his hand. “Don’t give up on Potter. You never know.”

“I don’t want to be hurt. I—I want too much.” His cheeks burned. 

“Take as much time as you need. If he’s worth anything, he will wait for you.”

“He’s not waiting for me! He doesn’t even think about me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

*

Harry was sitting in his wild garden. He liked being around the tangled weeds. He liked smelling the moldy dirt, the sweet flowers. The sun struggled against the clouds.

He covered his face. It’d been a week since he heard from Malfoy. His single owl to Malfoy had gone unanswered. 

It was obvious that Malfoy had been taking the piss all that night. _Do you like seeing me on my knees?_ His smile had been taunting, almost nasty. He hadn’t actually meant it. _Of course_ he hadn’t meant it.

But Harry had told him his eyes were beautiful. Harry cringed hard remembering it. Fuck, fuck. He was such an idiot! Malfoy had kissed his cheek just to challenge him, just to up the ante. 

And what had Harry done? He’d got a stiffy. Malfoy must have felt it. He must have realised that he’d taken it too far. He’d felt Harry’s hard prick and knew it was time to go home. 

Now he was avoiding Harry. Again. Harry pressed his fingers into his eyes. _Fuck!_

Harry didn’t understand it. He remembered Malfoy’s demand: _Stop saying that!_ But it was the truth. Why had he got hard? Was it the alcohol or simply the physical contact? His prick didn’t know Malfoy was a bloke. It just knew Harry was pressed against a warm body.

It didn’t make any sense. He had never been attracted to men. He still fancied tits and fanny. His prick tingled just thinking about Ginny’s fanny. It was so pink, so soft, so—He sucked in a breath. Okay, enough of that. He didn’t want a stiffy _right now_.

He thought about it and thought about it. Malfoy couldn’t be gay. He couldn’t. Harry would have known in Hogwarts; there would have been _hints_.

When he cast his mind back, he remembered a boy who used violence to get attention. He remembered someone who had no idea how to be soft or compassionate or kind. He didn’t know why he thought gay blokes needed to be those things, but he did. 

The truth was that Malfoy had beaten him; he’d gone against Harry and won. His victories had been rare, but they still mattered, and Harry didn’t think gay boys had victories over straight boys. They were relegated to the bench, to the back of the group with women. They didn’t stand out; they hid. 

Harry closed his eyes. How could he call Malfoy a bigot when he had his own terrible thoughts? Gays weren’t _lesser_. They were normal. They were . . . He didn’t think he knew a gay person. Sure, there had been rumors about Dumbledore and Grindelwald, but they were both dead. And sure, Charlie had never had a girlfriend, but he also wasn’t bringing boyfriends to Sunday roast at the Burrow. Then there was Sirius. Nobody had ever mentioned his sexuality. Had they never mentioned it _because_ he was gay? Did they think it would spoil his memory for Harry?

Christ. His whole understanding of gay and straight was in shambles.

All he knew was that he wanted to see Malfoy again, but he wasn’t going to push it. Not this time. He’d wait for Malfoy to come to him. If Malfoy decided to never see him again, then he would have to accept it.

*

A dark week passed. It rained every day, and Harry woke up to the tapping of droplets on his windows. There was no sun, no light, and it matched his mood.

He missed Malfoy. He really did. It ruined him when Teddy asked, _Where is Draco?_

Then, one afternoon, when the rain was at its worst, there was a knock on the door. Harry had been on the sofa, dozing just because he was bored.

Yawning, he slouched to the foyer to answer. Malfoy was on the other side, drenched, his usually perfect hair glued to his forehead.

“Wow,” Harry said.

“Tell me to leave.” There was something strange about Malfoy’s expression. His eyes looked a little red.

“Come inside before you drown.” Harry stepped back.

Malfoy slid past. He was dripping wet. 

“Did you lose your wand?”

“No,” Malfoy said.

They went into the parlour and Malfoy sat down on the sofa. He looked like he’d been through a car wash. 

“Want me to dry you?” Harry said.

“No.” Malfoy twisted his hands. He wasn’t looking at Harry. 

Harry sat down next to him. He wanted to put his arm around him. He wanted to thank him for giving him another chance. 

“You forced yourself to come here.”

Malfoy snorted softly. “Yes.”

Harry gulped a few times. “I’m glad you did. I—I missed you.”

Malfoy pulled back to scrutinise him. “I must tell you something but I don’t know how.”

“I think I have an idea.”

“I don’t want you to act differently. I don’t want to be treated differently.”

“It’s okay if you’re questioning.”

Malfoy blinked. There were droplets on his eyelashes. “What?”

“That’s what you were trying to convey to me that last time we were together. You are questioning your sexuality.”

“Are _you_ questioning?”

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. He should tell Malfoy what had been going on in his head, lay it all out for him. He swallowed, and his mouth was desert dry. 

“I—don’t know. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“What the bloody hell does that mean?”

“It means that I want to be your mate. It means that I like that you’re teaching me about a whole other world.” _It means I’m terrified._

“It’s not a whole other world!”

“I don’t know anyone who is gay or lesbian or whatever.”

“Yes, you do!”

“We’re not talking about Sirius right now.”

Malfoy bolted to his feet. “It was a mistake coming here.” He headed for the door, but Harry grabbed his arm. He yanked away. “Don’t touch me!”

“Please don’t leave. I’m sorry. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” His voice was urgent and high. 

Malfoy cringed and took a step back. “Don’t apologise to me.”

“Why not? I keep hurting you.”

“Because—I’m not worth it.”

They stared at one another. Then Harry grabbed Malfoy, wanting to pull him into a hug, but Malfoy expected something else, because their faces knocked together. 

Harry yanked Malfoy’s shirt. He pawed at him, not sexually, just needing the contact. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. Questioning or straight, _I don’t care_.”

“Harry.”

“Tell me you’re my friend.”

“Merlin.”

“I _need_ you.”

“You are such a stupid Gryffindor.” Malfoy hugged him close, his arm around Harry’s neck. He pressed his mouth to his hair.

Harry held him. He whispered, “Draco.”

“You have no idea how much I want to _ruin_ you.”

“Shut up.” Harry was smiling a little.

“I could utterly destroy you. I could make you so bloody desperate.”

“I’m already desperate.”

Malfoy pulled back. He grasped Harry’s shoulders. “Have you seen Ginny Weasley?”

“No,” he said, frowning.

“Do you intend to see her soon?”

“No.”

“Do you intend to date another woman soon? Someone you’ve had your eye on?”

“No.”

“I just ask you to warn me, okay? I don’t want to be surprised. I couldn’t handle it if it was a shock.”

“Okay.”

Malfoy clapped his hands together, then flinched. “I’ve arrived ready to work.”

“Work?”

He waved at the room, splattering more water. “You must stop living in this dusty museum. It’s like a shrine to the dead and that’s just depressing.”

“You want to help me clean?”

“And organise.” Malfoy picked up a holey cushion. “Decorate as well.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to expend yourself. You’re the one with the job, I’m the lazy sod with nothing to do.”

“I want to bring my mum next time. She will know what to keep and what to bin.”

“What?”

“My mum. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind! I don’t want people like her here.”

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. “I was the Death Eater, not her.”

“She believes in blood purity. She hates Muggles.”

“She wants to do better.”

Harry turned away. He didn’t know how to feel about any of it. He was still reeling from the hug, from _touching_ Malfoy, and now he was faced with the prospect of having Narcissa Malfoy in his home. 

“We can’t just get some fish and chips instead?”

“No!” Malfoy dragged his hand along the fireplace mantel and held up his blackened fingers. “How can you _live_ like this?”

“Your flat wasn’t pristine!” 

“We’re not talking about me right now.”

“Fine,” Harry said, pulling his wand from his pocket. “Where do we start?”

“What in here do you want to keep? What is actually yours?”

“I don’t know.” He motioned to some picture frames. “Those are mine. The wireless is mine. Everything else came with the house.”

Malfoy picked up the holey cushion again. “Do you like this?”

“Not really.”

“_Perdere Vidulus_.” Malfoy made a sharp V in the air and the cushion disappeared.

“Wait! I don’t want it gone!”

“It’s not gone.”

“Where did you put it?”

“Storage.”

“Do you know how to get it back?”

“Of course.”

Harry took a deep breath. “All the cushions can go, too.”

“Brilliant!” He picked up porcelain snakes. “What about these?”

“They can stay. I like them.”

“I do, too.” Next was Mrs Black’s perfume bottle collection in a glass cabinet. “Let’s do away with the entire cabinet and let my mum sort it out.”

“Okay.”

“_Perdere Vidulus_!” 

Harry Disappeared two antique mirrors and a vase that reminded him too much of a Horcrux. 

Malfoy glared at the old sofa. “This should have been binned a century ago.”

“I don’t want to bin it.”

“Put it away, at least.”

“Where am I going to sit?”

Malfoy shrugged. “We’ll go furniture shopping. Get you something modern.”

“I’ll P.V. it once I have that new sofa.”

Malfoy snorted at his acronym. “_Fine._”

They worked their way through the parlour and foyer, then up to the bedrooms. Halfway through the first bedroom, Harry sighed and sat down on the bed. “I’m knackered.”

“Already?” Malfoy sat down next to him, close enough that their bums and thighs were touching. Neither of them mentioned it. 

“Will you help me create a room for Teddy?”

Malfoy looked at him. “Are you sure?”

“When, if not now? It will be good to be prepared.”

“Which room?”

“The one next to mine?”

Malfoy shook his head. “No, you’ll want privacy. He’ll want privacy.”

“Okay . . . what about this one?”

They looked around, pondering.

“The light is good.”

“There might be Boggarts,” Harry said.

“Manageable.”

“Do you know anything about furniture for toddlers?”

“No . . . but my mum does.”

“We can’t have your mum decorate! She’d buy everything in Slytherin colours!”

“Maybe Teddy will be in Slytherin.”

“No way!”

Malfoy just laughed.

When they emerged from the bedroom, the hallway portraits vied for their attention.

“Pardon me, sir, but I’d like to speak to the head of the house!”

“You’re already speaking to him,” Harry said.

“No, no. You’re just a squatter. Who is the _real_ owner?”

“Phineas already confirmed he was it,” said a portrait.

“Phineas is a liar!”

“Why are you stealing our things?”

“We’re not stealing them,” Malfoy said evenly. “Just putting them into storage.”

“They should go into the attic then!”

“No room,” Harry said, and left the portraits to whine.

In the foyer, Malfoy stopped at the door. “I should go.”

“Oh.”

Malfoy smoothed down his now-wrinkled shirt. “I should never have let it air dry.”

“The Muggles are rubbing off on you.”

Malfoy punched his shoulder lightly. “Shut up.”

“It was good to see you. Can we hang out again soon?”

“I’ll see if I can fit you into my schedule.”

“Have a lot of dates lined up?”

“Are you saying you want to take me on a date?”

Harry shivered. “Stop taking the piss.”

Malfoy smiled wolfishly. “Never.”

When he had gone, Harry went down to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. As the kettle boiled, he leaned against the counter and smiled. He felt like he could breathe again.

*

Draco was fucked. He knew it. Of course he knew it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Potter. He couldn’t stop seeing him, _feeling_ him. He should just tell Potter the truth, tell him he wasn’t questioning but a flaming homosexual. But he couldn’t. He liked seeing Potter too much. He liked seeing him after work, then going home to spend the evening with one hand working his desperate prick and the other buggering his arse oh so slowly. 

He’d stopped going dancing with Pansy. There were too many fit blokes who looked like Potter, who made eyes at Draco, who licked their lips and asked if they could buy him a drink. Taking one home would be so easy. Draco was tempted, very tempted. He could finally lose his virginity, finally _know_ what it felt like, but he couldn’t do it. He wanted Potter to be his first. He was consumed by the thought. Potter had to be his first for the rest of his life to go right.

Potter wanted to do inane things. He hadn’t lived as a Muggle in decades, but he sought out their types of entertainment. Draco liked going to the cinema and Tesco, but _kayaking_ took it too far. 

They were in a tiny plastic canoe and they were about to _drown_.

Draco leaned close. “Think of how many dead bodies are in this river.”

Potter glared over his shoulder. “Lovely.” 

It was a sweltering day, the sunlight blinking off the river. Draco felt like an idiot in his puffy life jacket. They both looked like fat tomatoes. 

The water was green and brown, a soup of rust. They paddled slowly, taking in the sights. All the tourist spots looked different. They went under the Tower Bridge and Draco smelled centuries of decay. 

As they passed the London Eye, Draco imagined muttering a spell that forced the whole thing to crash into the water. He smirked. 

“Doing all right?” Potter said. 

Draco wanted to lick the back of his neck. He wanted to pull him closer, back to chest, and rut against his perfect arse. “Do you think there are mermaids living in the Thames?”

“Dunno,” Potter said. “If there are, they haven’t been seen in ages.”

“They probably think an Edward still rules the land.” He could see it: mermaids emerging from the river, expecting medieval London and getting automobiles and tellies instead.

A few days later, they took Teddy to the park again. A few days after that, Potter talked Draco into going to the British Museum, but he refused to enter the ancient Egypt rooms. “The Muggles don’t know what they are doing! _I’m_ not getting cursed.”

Then Andromeda had a fall and everything went to shit.


	2. Chapter 2

St Mungo’s was a blur of lime green robes and magically floating stretchers. The receptionist recognised Harry and flushed deeply.

“I’m looking for patient Andromeda Black Tonks,” he said.

“She’s in surgery, sir.”

“What happened to her?”

“I can’t tell you that, sir.”

“Harry!” It was Molly. She hugged him and guided him to the waiting room. 

“Where’s Teddy?”

“Arthur is looking after him. Have a seat, dear. I will get you a cup of tea.”

Harry sat down, but he grabbed her hand. “I want Teddy here with me.”

She shook her head. “The waiting room is no place for a child.”

“Okay,” he said, relieved that she was making the decision. “What happened?”

“We were supposed to go to the shop today, but when she wasn’t there, I went to her house.” Molly paled. “She was at the foot of her stairs and poor Ted was sitting beside her.”

Harry covered his face. “Christ.” 

A moment later she pushed a cup of tea into his hand. “Drink. It will do you good.”

He drank deeply, the tea like scalding mud. “Was she conscious?”

“Just barely . . . there was blood.”

He was shaking. He put the cup down and covered his face again. “I wasn’t there,” he moaned.

“It’s okay,” Molly said, rubbing his back. “You didn’t know.”

“I was sitting on my arse while Andromeda couldn’t get up and Teddy couldn’t help her.”

“Ted told me he tried to Floo you, but he couldn’t figure it out. He’s such a clever boy.”

His chest swelled with pride. “He’s a good lad.”

They waited in the small room for a few hours. Hermione and Ron came, but Harry wanted Malfoy. He wanted Malfoy but he didn’t want to ask too much from him. 

When the Healer told them Andromeda was out of surgery and ready to see them, Harry finally sent Malfoy an owl: _Andromeda’s at St Mungo’s. She’s going to make it, but she’s badly injured. Teddy’s okay._ He hesitated, then wrote the truth. _ I wish you were here._

In her hospital bed, Andromeda looked as white as the sheets. She smiled, dazed and exhausted. “I’m fine,” she croaked.

“She will need a new hip,” the Healer said. 

“Can you walk?” Harry said.

The Healer answered. “Not yet.”

“I will take care of Teddy,” he said.

“No,” Andromeda said forcefully.

“We can make these decisions later,” Molly said. 

The Healer nodded. “She needs to sleep. Her potions will kick in soon.”

Andromeda was asleep when Malfoy arrived. She looked dead, and Harry felt a storm of panic in his chest. 

Strangely, Malfoy wore glittery dress robes. “I came as soon as I got your owl.”

“Why are you dressed like that?” Harry said numbly.

“I was with my tailor.” He looked at Molly, who was struggling not to glare.

“This is a time for family _only_,” she said stiffly.

Malfoy laughed. “I’m related to her by blood, unlike you.”

“Take me home,” Harry said, not wanting a row. 

“We will make sure Teddy is okay,” Hermione said, her expression almost relieved. He didn’t have the strength to evaluate it.

“Yeah, take care of yourself first,” Ron said, but he was struggling like his mum.

Malfoy looked at all of them, his chin held high, before guiding Harry from the room. “Come on,” he said softly.

“We should stop at the Burrow. Teddy probably wants me.”

“Teddy shouldn’t see you like this.”

“Oh.” Harry rubbed at his face. “You’re right.”

Malfoy put an arm around him and helped him to the Floo.

*

At Grimmauld Place, Malfoy sat Harry on the sofa and made more tea. The parlour was deathly silent and it caused Harry to shake more.

“I don’t know why I’m cracking up,” Harry said.

Malfoy sat next to him. “You’ve had a great shock. It’s perfectly all right.”

“I’m not ready to raise Teddy,” Harry said, gasping. “I’m terrible, I’m the worst bloke in the world, but I’m not ready.”

“Breathe, Harry.”

“I can’t. I really can’t.”

“You are the _best_ bloke in the world.”

Harry clutched at him. Tears burned his eyes. “Fuck, I’m crying.”

Malfoy took him into his arms. “I’ve got you.” He kissed his forehead, then his cheek.

Harry moaned, not knowing where the sound came from. Malfoy took his face in his hands and kissed his lips. 

For a moment, he didn’t register it. Malfoy was kissing him; he was kissing him to comfort him. Then Malfoy moaned, and Harry realised what was happening. 

He didn’t freak out. He kissed Malfoy back, wanting to know, _needing_ to know. Malfoy’s mouth was soft, his lips thin. He exhaled shakily, and Harry tasted his breath.

Malfoy broke away. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Harry kissed him again. He didn’t let himself think. He liked kissing Malfoy. It made him feel good, and he wanted to feel good right now.

Malfoy was suddenly pushing Harry onto his back, practically shoving him. He snogged him hungrily, desperately, and his hands yanked at Harry’s clothing; Harry gasped, struggling to keep up. He felt Malfoy’s hard cock. 

“Harry,” Malfoy said. “Oh, Harry.” He’d got Harry’s shirt up, and his mouth was on his stomach. He fumbled with Harry’s belt. “Let me. Please, let me.”

“Draco.” He felt out of his body. He felt like he was floating. “Draco.”

“Please,” Malfoy said, finally getting his belt undone. “I want to taste you.”

Harry only understood when Malfoy put a hand on his prick outside his pants. Harry surged up. “No!”

“What?” Malfoy looked at him, his hand still on Harry’s prick. 

“No,” Harry said, and pushed him away. Malfoy jumped from the sofa and stormed out of the room. 

Harry sat up, trembling so badly he couldn’t zip himself up. He just sat there, not really comprehending what happened. His mind refused to work. 

Malfoy came back a few minutes later. His face was very red. “I’m sorry, Potter. I made a fool of myself. I—I misunderstood. I thought you wanted to be touched.”

“You fancy me?”

Malfoy flushed even more. There was a long, horrible silence. “Yes,” he said finally.

“I had no idea,” Harry said. 

“How could you not know?” Malfoy’s voice was raised.

“I thought you were confused like me.”

Malfoy glared. “I’m not confused about anything.”

Harry covered his face. “I can’t talk about this right now. Too much has happened today.”

“All right,” Malfoy said, his voice now very soft. He waved his wand and a pillow and a duvet zoomed from upstairs. He made Harry a bed and helped him lie back. He knelt to take off his shoes.

“Thank you,” Harry said.

Malfoy remained crouched. “Do you want me to stay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Harry went to hold his hand, but then thought better of it. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Okay.”

When Harry woke up in the morning, Malfoy was gone.

*

At the Burrow, Teddy seemed perfectly fine. He played with his dragons on the floor of the lounge while Arthur listened to the wireless and flipped through the _Prophet_.

“Children are very resilient,” Arthur said.

“Yeah,” Harry said, wishing he was just as resilient. He sat on the floor with Teddy, watching him for any sign of distress. He was finding it hard to focus, and it made him ashamed. He wanted to think about only Teddy, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of Malfoy. 

They had snogged. Really, really snogged. Malfoy had said his first name, and it was tender and desperate. Malfoy had been aroused, too. Kissing Harry had made his prick hard. 

Harry covered his face. He couldn’t think about this right now. Not in front of Teddy. 

“There’s a surprise upstairs for you,” Arthur said casually.

At first, Harry thought he was talking to Teddy, but Arthur gazed at him over the newspaper. “Did you hear me?”

“A surprise for me?” Harry said.

“Yeah, she’s in her old room.” Arthur smiled.

Harry’s stomach dropped. He went upstairs, his heart pounding. Ginny’s door was open and she sat on the bed as if waiting for him. 

They stared at each other. Harry stood in the doorway and she remained on the bed. 

“I was in Scotland when I found out about Andromeda,” she said. “I meant to warn you before I came back, but I didn’t have time, given the circumstances.”

“I think I fancy men,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. Then she began laughing. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

“Did you know?” Had it never been good for her? Had he made it all up?

She stood and came to him. She was so petite and strong. She was gorgeous. “You were more sensitive than my other boyfriends.”

“That sounds like a stereotype.”

“You’re right.” She hugged him, and he buried his face in her soft hair. 

“God, I missed you.”

She broke the hug to look at him. “I don’t want to get back together.”

“Oh.” Now it was his turn to sit down on the bed. She chose the desk chair. “I guess that’s for the best.”

“I’m seeing Viktor Krum.”

Harry grimaced hard. “But . . . he’s a lot older than you.”

“Yeah,” she said, grinning. 

He _did not_ want to think about them together. “I think—I fancy Draco Malfoy.”

Something dark flickered in her eyes. “He knew his father gave Voldemort’s diary to me.”

“They didn’t know how dangerous it was.”

“Still.” Her jaw was tense. “He tried to kill Katie and Dumbledore. Bill is _disfigured_ because of him.”

“He didn’t personally attack Bill.” Harry didn’t know why he was defending Malfoy. Ginny wasn’t wrong. “Malfoy’s changed. He regrets a lot of things. I know for a fact that it eats him up.”

“Good.” She took a deep breath and tried for a smile. “Why do you fancy him?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s just . . . gorgeous. He’s so good at things.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Oh?”

“Not like that! We’ve just snogged!”

“Oh!” She smiled for real. “You snogged him and realised you liked it?”

It was a bad idea to talk to her about this. He knew it. She wasn’t made of stone. She still cared about him on some level. 

“I need to figure out how to tell Hermione,” he said.

“She’s so clever she probably already knows.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t like the idea of Hermione knowing and not saying anything. 

“I want to see Teddy.” Ginny stood.

They went downstairs and Teddy waved happily to her. She dropped to the floor to talk to him.

Harry didn’t like seeing them together. She had forfeited her right to him. 

He went to the kitchen to escape that thought. He was being ridiculous. He made tea and drank it at the counter.

A few minutes later, Ginny joined him. “I want to see Andromeda, too.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. He wanted to say, _You can’t shag Krum and be in my life!_ He took a deep breath. Things didn’t need to be so black and white. He would never be able to cut her out completely. 

“I won’t see her if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m trying not to be a dickhead.”

“I know.” She touched his arm. “I still want to be friends.”

“Breaking up is for the best. I know it is.”

“You’ve got Malfoy.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Will you come to St Mungo’s with me?”

“Okay.”

*

St Mungo’s was not as busy as the day before. Harry kept his head down, not wanting to be recognised. He wasn’t in the mood.

In Andromeda’s room, they found a peculiar scene. Malfoy and his mum were at her bedside, talking casually, while Molly stood in the corner, her mouth trembling. 

Malfoy caught sight of Harry and Ginny, and the ceiling light exploded. 

“Merlin!” said the women. 

“Mind the glass,” Molly said, but Narcissa was already pulling out her wand to _Evanesco_ the pieces. 

Malfoy dashed from the room, not looking at anyone. Harry thought about going after him, but he didn’t want to leave before talking to Andromeda. 

“Hello,” he said, grasping her weak hand. “How are you holding up?”

“Is Draco okay? Did we say something to offend him?”

“My boy can be very dramatic,” Narcissa said. 

“I will talk to him,” Harry said, and squeezed her hand a little. “Are you in pain?”

“I’m always in pain.” She smiled weakly, then looked over his shoulder. “Ginny!”

“Good to see you, Andromeda.” Ginny came up to stand beside him. 

“I’m so glad you’re back. Harry really missed you.”

He coughed awkwardly. 

“We aren’t together anymore,” Ginny said loudly so her mum could hear.

“I don’t believe it!” Molly shrieked.

His face was burning. “It’s true.”

“I’m seeing Viktor Krum, Mum.”

“Oh.” Molly looked like she didn’t know how to feel. “He’s quite well off, isn’t he?”

Harry took a deep breath. He was already being replaced. Before he knew it, he wouldn’t be invited to Sunday roast anymore. 

“I came as soon as I heard,” Narcissa explained to Harry. “I would have come earlier, but Draco only got around to telling me today.”

“Draco has been distracted,” Harry said, and it was weird to say his first name. It was weird to talk to Narcissa in general, who looked too much like Malfoy for Harry’s comfort. 

“I can tell,” Narcissa said. 

“Don’t let me hold you up,” Andromeda said. “The boy obviously wants someone to chase after him.”

“Oh,” Harry said, and realised they were all looking at him. “Okay.”

“We will keep you updated,” Ginny said.

Harry knew when he was being dismissed. “Okay,” he repeated, then walked to the door. 

“I’m thirsty,” Andromeda said.

“I’ll get you some water.” Narcissa reached for her glass.

“No, I can get it!” Molly said.

Harry left them.

*

Harry was in front of Malfoy’s flat before he knew it. He knocked loudly.

“Fuck off!”

He tried the knob and found it unlocked. He pushed the door open but didn’t step inside. Malfoy stood in his lounge, crying. 

“I won’t come in until you invite me.”

“Are you some kind of vampire now?” Malfoy wiped angrily at his tears.

“Please,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

“_Come in._”

Harry stepped inside and shut the door. He opened and closed his mouth, not knowing how to make it right.

Malfoy crossed his arms. He was still crying. “Is this when you tell me that you’re back with Ginny Weasley?”

“We’re not back together. We broke up officially.”

“Why were you with her, then!”

“She was at the Burrow. I had no idea she was even in the country.”

Malfoy worked his mouth. “I’m a pouf, Potter. I’m not confused or questioning. I’m _gay_. I’ve always been gay.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Malfoy threw his arms in the air. “I didn’t trust you! Every time I brought up anything gay, you always refused to accept it. ‘How can you know what it was like to be gay at Hogwarts?’ Because I lived it, Potter!”

“You never acted gay.” Harry knew he’d fucked up even as he said it.

Malfoy pulled his wand from a pocket. “Tell me. How does a gay bloke act?”

Harry held up his hands. “That was offensive and I’m sorry. I’m trying to get it right.”

“You need to try harder.” Malfoy twirled his wand. 

“I told Ginny about you and me.”

“Oh.” Malfoy looked shocked.

“Yeah.” Harry took a careful step forward. “I want to try with you.”

“I refuse to be your _experiment_.”

Harry swallowed, his mouth incredibly dry. His heart was racing. “I know I want you. I do. But sometimes it’s hard to notice. Sometimes it’s buried so deep and I don’t know what to look for or what it looks like when it’s uncovered.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I know, okay?” Harry rubbed his face with shaking hands. “I liked you kissing me yesterday. I just panicked. I’m sorry my panic hurt you.”

Malfoy put away his wand. He sighed deeply. “I want you too much, Potter. I don’t know if I can handle myself around you.”

“I get that. You are very experienced and I don’t know what’s up or down.”

Malfoy’s eyelid twitched. “I’m not experienced.”

“But you’ve obviously slept with a boy before.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. 

“That’s _why_ I’m so desperate. You’ve had sex before. I haven’t.”

“Christ.”

Malfoy sat down on the sofa. “It’s pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” Harry joined him. “I’m shocked. You are so damn fit. _Anybody_ would want to shag you.”

“I know,” Malfoy said, his mouth quirking. “I was just waiting for the right bloke.”

“And I’m the right bloke?”

Malfoy took a deep breath. “What if you’re wrong? What if we mess around and you realise it was just a phase or something?”

“You don’t like that I still fancy girls.”

“It makes the odds not really in my favour.”

“Why?” 

“Because straight couples are _seen_. They are invited over for family roast. They are _respected_.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

“Yes, you do. Trust me, you do.” Malfoy covered his face for a long moment. Harry thought he was crying again, but his eyes were dry when he looked up. “Given the choice, why would anyone choose to be invisible?”

Malfoy was right. Harry wasn’t there yet. He just wanted to kiss Malfoy again and see where it took him. 

“I can’t promise that I won’t break your heart,” Harry said slowly, “but it’s the same for any relationship, gay or straight or whatever.”

Malfoy moved closer. His gaze was very hungry. “You’re just so _hot_.”

Arousal shot through Harry, and it made him catch his breath. Malfoy could give him a stiffy just by looking at him like that. “I want you to kiss me again,” he said, voice low. 

Malfoy kissed his cheek, then his neck. He licked his chin and rested a hand on his stomach. “I want to suck your cock,” he said in his ear.

“Kiss me, damn you.”

Malfoy kissed him, and it wasn’t rushed or hurried. He moved his mouth against Harry’s slowly. Harry kissed back. He let his hands roam over his body, enjoying the warm feel of him. He parted his lips, and Malfoy sneaked his tongue inside. 

Harry knew how to kiss. It wasn’t much different from Ginny. Malfoy just had more stubble. Their tongues moved together, licking, and Harry had the courage to capture his tongue and suck on it. This caused Malfoy to groan and thrust against his hip. 

“You taste so good,” Harry said, drawing back a little to nibble on his bottom lip. 

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser.”

_I’ve had a lot of practice_, Harry wanted to say, but then realised what a mood killer that would be. 

They spent some time snogging, going slowly. Harry listened to Malfoy’s hitched breathing and felt his pounding heart. Harry was hard, painfully hard, but he was also scared. He didn’t know much about shagging a bloke. 

The longer they kissed, the more malleable Malfoy became. He clung to Harry and arched into him. Harry guided him onto his back. He kissed and nibbled his neck. Ginny had always gone crazy when Harry bit her neck, and that was what he did to Malfoy, who liked it just as much. 

“Fuck,” Malfoy said, rolling his hips. Harry sucked the tender skin beneath his ear. He bit down again and again, adding more pressure each time. Malfoy thrashed and cried out. 

“You like this?” Harry said, smiling. He felt powerful.

Malfoy wrapped his arms around him. He was shuddering and thrusting. Harry was hot and aroused, his mind a blur. He felt Malfoy’s erection, but it wasn’t enough to frighten him. 

“Kiss me again,” Malfoy said.

Harry kissed him deeply, their mouths desperate, and Malfoy moaned liquidly. His hips had stilled, his hold on Harry almost painful. Harry only realised Malfoy had come when he panted a quiet, “_Harry_,” and relaxed against the sofa.

“Oh.” Harry blinked down in shock. Malfoy looked comatose. His eyes were barely open, his chest heaving. He was riding high on bliss. 

Harry climbed off him. He didn’t know what to do with his own stiffy, so he did nothing. He sat there and looked at Malfoy’s things, waiting for his prick to go soft. 

After a while, Malfoy sat up. His hair was a mess and he ran his fingers through it and laughed. “Fuck.”

“I didn’t know you were so close.” Harry swallowed a few times. “It usually takes a lot more to make a girl come.”

“Shut up, Potter,” he said happily. 

“I didn’t want to move that quickly.”

“Oh.” Malfoy bit his lip.

“We haven’t even gone on a date yet.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Gay blokes don’t need to date to shag.”

Harry just looked at him. “I’m not gay.”

Malfoy scooted closer. “You were hard. I felt it.” He tried unbuttoning his jeans but Harry stopped him.

“Not yet.”

“I just want to see it.”

“No.”

Malfoy stood. “I never thought a bloke would turn down head.”

Harry crossed his arms. “I don’t fancy you just for the sex.”

“It must be a Gryffindor thing,” Malfoy said to himself. 

“I should go.” He felt moody and he didn’t really know why. He’d lost control of the situation, and he didn’t know how to make it right. 

Malfoy caught him at the door. He kissed him softly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for it to happen that way.”

Harry smiled. “You fancy me a lot, don’t you?”

Malfoy’s gaze darkened like he was angry. He pushed Harry against the door and kissed him deeply. His mouth was intoxicating, and Harry let himself just enjoy the intensity of it. 

Malfoy grabbed his arse and hauled him closer. “I _want_ you.”

“Yes,” Harry said, trembling. “I just don’t know . . . the mechanics of it.”

“What’s there to know? I want you to stick your cock up my arse.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He was getting hard again. “I—I could do that.”

“Good.” Malfoy laughed and stepped back. “Next time, then?”

“No . . . not next time.” Harry was stuttering. “I couldn’t next time.”

“I was just trying to say goodbye.”

“Oh.” Harry sucked in a breath. “I’ll owl you soon.”

Malfoy frowned. “Sure.”

Harry left, not understanding what made him frown.

*

A few days passed and Harry spent most of his time at St Mungo’s. It would be a few months before Andromeda could receive her new hip, and Molly and Narcissa argued over who would help her in the meantime.

“She’s _my_ family.”

Molly huffed. “You haven’t been in her life for decades!”

“_You_ killed our sister!” Narcissa snarled.

Teddy spent a lot of time with Andromeda, too. She was strong enough to sit up in bed and liked reading to him or playing dragons with him. Teddy brought her flowers from the Burrow garden.

One morning, Ginny took Harry into the hallway. “We’re planning a pool party for tonight. Very last minute.”

“Where?”

“The Burrow. Can I invite Malfoy?”

Harry hesitated. “Yeah, but tell him he can bring a guest.”

“Okay,” Ginny said easily. “Viktor is coming.”

“What?”

“Please don’t be weird about it.”

“We haven’t been broken up for a week!”

“I thought it would be okay if Malfoy was there.”

“Who will also be there?”

“Ron, Hermione, Charlie, possibly Luna and Neville.”

“And Viktor Krum.”

“_And_ Draco Malfoy. Do you think I’d want him around if I had the choice?”

“You don’t have to invite him.”

“No, he’s invited.”

“What about your parents?”

“They agreed to stay away for the night. Probably going to be here or at Andromeda’s with Teddy.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t attend. They might need help with Teddy.”

“They don’t need help.” Ginny sighed. “Viktor is _great_. He really wants to see you.”

“I’m sure he does,” Harry said darkly.

“I really want us all to be mates.”

He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll come. I need to find my swim trunks.”

*

That afternoon, Harry was in bright red swim trunks, sitting at an enormous Transfigured pool. As it turned out, Charlie was an expert at creating pools from practically nothing.

It was a great day to be outside. The sun seemed excited to be invited. There were rum drinks with tropical names, but he was too nervous for alcohol. Malfoy had yet to show up.

The Burrow teetered to the side even more. Only Arthur and Molly lived there now. Their garden was still full of defiant gnomes, but their peonies had big colourful heads and their grass was so green it looked charmed. 

Harry struggled not to stare at Krum and Ginny, who were currently splashing each other like they were children. 

He also tried not to think about Ginny starkers. He didn’t want to shag her, but it was hard not to remember the times he’d been inside her, his grip hard and commanding. 

“I heard Malfoy’s coming,” Ron said, sitting down next to him. 

Harry shrugged. “He probably isn’t.”

Ron was eyeing him. “Hermione thinks you are dating him.”

His chest became icy. He did his best not to let it show on his face. “And what if we are?”

“Merlin,” Ron muttered. “Is this why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you!”

“Yes, you have. You said you would owl me and you never did.”

“Oh.”

“I’m busy with work and wedding plans, but I’m never too busy for my best mate.”

“It was weird talking to you after Ginny and I took a break. I thought you blamed me.”

“Blamed you for what?”

Harry shrugged. “Getting involved with her in the first place.”

“Yeah,” Ron said, taking a swig of beer. “I told you that was a bad idea.”

“It worked out for a couple of years!”

“Still.”

Harry heaved a sigh. “I fancy Malfoy, okay? I don’t want you to think anything has to change between us because of it.”

“Have you—you know—shagged him?”

“Not yet.” Harry’s cheeks were warm. “We’ve just messed around.”

Ron gazed at him steadily. “What was it like?”

“It was good . . . very passionate.”

“Oh,” Ron said, and he looked thoughtful.

There was commotion from inside the Burrow, and Malfoy and Pansy emerged from the garden door. 

“You came!” Ginny scrambled from the pool. She was wearing a _very_ revealing bikini and Pansy’s eyes widened.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Pansy said, voice high. She was practically drooling.

Malfoy stood a little behind her. He was wearing blue swim trunks and looked ridiculously fit. 

Harry went over to him, grinning embarrassingly. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Pansy threatened to murder me if I didn’t.” Malfoy smiled a little. 

“You look really good,” Harry said.

Malfoy went pink. “You too.” He touched the faint love bites on his neck. “I tried hiding them with a few spells.”

“You can barely see them.” Harry spotted the scars on Malfoy’s chest. “Is that from—?”

“Yeah.” Malfoy was gazing at him in a strange way. “I think of you every time I see them.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

Malfoy showed Harry his unmarked left forearm. “I also covered up my Mark before I came. I didn’t want to alarm anyone.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry said, then felt stupid. Of course Malfoy had the Mark. He was a confirmed former Death Eater. 

“Draco!” Pansy called.

“I’m being summoned,” Malfoy said, but didn’t move. 

Harry wanted to kiss him right there. The sun made his hair gold and white, and his eyes were a breathtaking grey. His chest was pale and strong, and his nipples were _pink_.

“Take a film,” Malfoy said, smirking. “It will last longer.” He walked over to Pansy.

“That’s not how the phrase goes!” Harry said, then caught Charlie watching Malfoy like he was two seconds away from pouncing. Harry gritted his teeth. 

“Harry!” Krum said, and wrapped a beefy arm around him. “Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I don’t think I’m in the mood.”

“What mood? You should drink every day!” Krum laughed. His nose was even more broken, and his unibrow was thick. Still, Harry understood why Ginny was mad about him. He was probably great in bed.

Harry had never thought about a man like that before, and it shocked him. He fancied Malfoy because he was Malfoy, but Harry didn’t know Krum. He didn’t know him but he was still attracted to him. 

Krum got close to whisper, “Gin tells me you are gay now.”

“I’m not gay.”

“Oh? Did I misunderstand?”

“I’m bisexual, if anything.”

Krum’s furry brow went up. “You like boys and girls?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, unable to believe he was having this conversation with Viktor Krum.

Krum got even closer. His breath was hoppy. “Me too. I quite liked Cedric. He was very pretty.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and realised he’d probably had a crush on Cedric as well. He’d just been too young to know it. 

“Let’s drink to new beginnings!” Krum slapped his back too hard. 

“Maybe later.” Harry escaped into the house and ran into Hermione. “Are you hiding in here, too?”

“I’m not hiding!” she said.

“Is it because of Krum?”

“Maybe.” She worried her hands and peeked out the window. “I don’t know how I feel about him being with Ginny. I mean, of course it’s all water under the bridge, but it’s a tad _embarrassing_.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Thank, Harry.” She finally looked at him. “Ron has already talked to you, hasn’t he?”

“Why didn’t you just ask me if I fancy Malfoy?”

“I’m so sorry, but sometimes you can be oblivious about that sort of thing. I didn’t want to alarm you.”

“You probably would have alarmed me,” he admitted.

“Are you nervous that he’s here?”

“Yes and no.” He smiled faintly. “It’s nice that Ginny invited him.”

“Yeah,” she said, inspecting him. “Is it official then? Are you a couple?”

“Not really. We haven’t gone on any dates.”

“But?”

“I’m having a lovely time with him.”

She smiled back. “I’ll stop asking so many questions.”

Ginny and Ron found them. “Let’s play Hide and Seek! Everyone outside has agreed to play.”

“Okay,” Harry said, even though it was a bit childish.

“I’ll be the seeker first,” Ginny said excitedly. “The only rule is no magic!”

Hermione nodded seriously. “Got it.”

They went outside and gathered with the other party goers. Ginny faced a tree and began a one minute countdown. Harry sneaked back into the house. 

He slipped into a hallway cupboard. It was a tight fit, but he pushed some cloaks against the wall. Then he held his breath and waited.

He didn’t hear anything for a couple of minutes. Were they not supposed to hide in the house? He was about to peek outside when he heard footsteps. 

The door opened and Malfoy squeezed inside.

“What are you—”

“Shh.” Malfoy pressed against him, arse to groin. Harry immediately stiffened. 

They stood like that for a moment or so, not moving, barely breathing. It was now hot in the cupboard, and Harry felt sweat building on his shoulders. He was struggling not to focus on how Malfoy’s arse was pressed against him.

Then Malfoy started moving against him, rocking, _dragging_. Harry gritted his teeth, feeling light-headed. His cock was filling with blood, and it felt so damn good.

“Is this okay?” Malfoy whispered. 

Harry moaned and licked his shoulder. He grabbed his hips and thrust against him. 

“Can I take off my trunks?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, even though his heart was thudding painfully. It was easier to do this in the dark. It made Harry forget about the consequences and his fears. He didn’t have to see Malfoy’s taunting face if he did it wrong. 

Malfoy lowered his trunks and suddenly his bare arse was right there. Harry ran a hand over his cheeks, then managed the courage to grab one. His flesh was firm and warm and _soft_. 

“Fuck,” Harry said, and his mouth was suddenly dry. He wished he could cast a _Lumos_. He wanted to part Malfoy and see his arsehole. 

“Put your prick between my cheeks,” Malfoy said, his voice low.

Harry gulped. He shook as he pushed his own trunks down. God, his prick was leaking so much. He’d done this to Ginny a few times in the shower, but this was different. He was in a cupboard with _Malfoy_.

He guided his prick into position, then thrust. Malfoy groaned and slapped a hand over his mouth. Harry took this as encouragement. He pressed his lips to Malfoy’s neck and thrust again and again. It was too dry and their flesh stuck in places, but he didn’t care. He bit Malfoy to muffle his own groans.

“Harry.” Malfoy arched into him. 

“Draco.” Harry was trying to lose control as quietly as possible. 

“You’re virtually gushing,” Malfoy whispered. 

“Touch yourself.”

“I already am.”

Harry forced him against the door as he came. He thrust and thrust, the pleasure overwhelming. He really hoped no one was in the hallway. 

“We’ve made such a mess,” Malfoy said, and laughed softly.

Harry was trying to feel his legs again. “Will you clean it up?”

Draco turned around and kissed him on the mouth, then whispered, “_Scourgify_.”

“I don’t know how I can face everyone after this,” Harry said.

“Easily.” Malfoy opened the door.

Harry cursed and yanked up his trunks. He blinked owlishly at Malfoy. “Do you think the game is over?”

“Who cares?” Malfoy took his hand. “Let’s go swimming.”

The pool was a cool turquoise and Malfoy tried to push him in. Everyone was still hiding, but they probably heard Harry’s indignant squawk. 

Harry grabbed him and they jumped in together. Before Malfoy got his bearings, Harry made a mess of his blond hair.

“Bastard.” Malfoy lunged for him, but Harry kicked away.

“Catch me if you can!” he yelled.

Malfoy swam after him.

*

Draco hated when his mum was in his flat. He watched her for any sign of disappointment. He knew he disappointed her, and some part of him was sorry for it, but he couldn’t be the man she wanted him to be.

“At least you keep it clean,” she said finally. She wore heavy scarlet robes and her greying hair was pulled back in a stern bun. 

“Yeah.”

“You need a bookcase.”

“Please don’t buy me one.”

“You should let me send over a house-elf. They _miss_ you. They want to serve you.”

Draco grimaced. “No, thank you.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “Are we off to Grimmauld Place then?”

“Yes, unless you want to see anything else?”

She gave his lounge a swift, disapproving look. “No, I’ve seen enough.”

They Disapparated and landed in an alley down the street from Grimmauld Place.

“This is why you need a Floo.” His mum began walking. 

He hurried after her. “Are you nervous about returning?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, but her expression said otherwise. 

Draco didn’t want his mum to be nervous. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “I could tell Potter something came up if you didn’t want to do this.”

“We’re already here.” She marched up the steps and pounded on the door. “I hate entering homes like Muggles.”

Potter answered, and he looked so good. He had just showered and his hair was still a little wet. His eyes were bright and green behind his stupid, _perfect_ glasses. Draco remembered what his cock felt like dragging against his arsehole.

“Welcome, Mrs Malfoy,” Potter said. 

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, and stepped inside. 

Draco wanted to push him against the wall and snog him until they were both dizzy. He settled for a knowing smirk. “Hello, _Harry_.”

“Hello, Draco.”

The foyer and lounge were still empty after their torrent of organising and cleaning. Potter had kept the troll leg. 

“Care for some tea, Mrs Malfoy?”

“No, thank you.” Her eyes glittered and her face was pink. She was overwhelmed, Draco could tell. 

“Do you want to see Teddy’s room?” Draco asked.

She clasped her hands tightly. “I would like to look around alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Okay.”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

They waited on the sofa as his mum went upstairs. 

“Do you think she will go through my things?” Harry whispered.

“No. Has Ginny gone back to training?”

“Yes, and she took Krum with her, thank god.”

“The pool party was fun.”

“Yeah.”

They were sitting close, so close Draco felt the heat of him and smelled his soap. If only his mum wasn’t there. He’d yet to actually see Potter starkers. 

“What?” Potter’s smile was too smug.

Draco nudged him with his thigh. “You know what.”

Potter sucked in a breath. “Don’t make me think about it. Not with your mum around.”

“Are you sure?” Draco leaned in to kiss him, but Potter pushed him away, his eyes wide.

Of course his mum was standing there. “You have a lot of empty rooms, Potter,” she said.

Potter was blushing so much he was almost purple. “Yes, Mrs Malfoy.” He coughed. “Did you see Teddy’s room?”

“Yes, it’s a good choice,” she said, her face revealing nothing. “I have some ideas concerning decoration.”

Potter stiffened. “Well—I’m open to suggestions.”

Draco couldn’t help grinning. He liked seeing Potter all flustered because of his mum.

They went up to Teddy’s new room. The curtains were open, revealing a slice of white sky. 

“For the walls, I’m thinking a light cream with an accent of Persian blue.”

Potter blinked. “Oh, yeah. That sounds nice, though I’m not sure what Persian blue looks like.”

She thought for a moment, then twirled her wand in the air, creating a flame of blue that was a shade lighter than navy. “I’m going for contrast.”

“That is a nice colour,” Potter said. “Do you think he needs a desk?”

“Not yet,” she said. “I would purchase a desk right before he goes to Hogwarts.”

Potter stood next to the window. “There will be space here. Should I build a reading nook or something?”

She snorted. “Edward is three, not sixty-three. He can play with his toys beneath the window.”

“Right.” Potter nodded. “I can see that I’m trying to do too much.”

“You are.” She smiled. “If Edward wants or needs something, he will ask.”

Draco had watched their exchange silently. He didn’t dare let himself hope this could be the new normal. 

“I understand you put much of the household items into storage using _Perdere Vidulus_.”

“Yeah . . . Draco said you might help me sort through it and figure out what to keep and what to bin.”

“Yes, I can do that.”

“Brilliant!” Draco said. 

“But I can’t do it today. I want to get back to Andromeda.”

“Of course,” Potter said. 

“May I use your Floo?”

“Of course,” he said again.

She shook his hand, then looked at Draco. “Escort me downstairs please.”

“I’ll be here,” Potter said to him.

At the Floo, his mum inspected him for a long moment, her eyes unreadable. Draco prepared himself.

“He’s not Astoria Greengrass,” she said finally. 

“I know.”

“She’s still interested, you know.”

“Yes.”

His mum sighed. “You could do worse than _Harry Potter_. Dating him will do wonders for your reputation.”

“Can we talk about this later?” he hissed, glancing worriedly at the ceiling. The last thing he needed was Potter thinking he was with him only to improve himself socially. 

“I suppose this means there will be no grandchildren.”

“Merlin.”

“I’m sure there’s some cousin the Manor could go to once you’re dead, but I didn’t marry a Malfoy to be forgotten.”

“You won’t be!” He carded his fingers through his hair. “It’s entirely too early to speak about children. Just know that I’m _happy_, Mother. I’m very happy.”

“There’s no need to tell me that.” She touched his cheek. “You are virtually glowing.”

He flushed. “_Mum_.”

“Stop fretting, I’m leaving.” She threw some powder into the fireplace and a moment later was gone. 

Draco had to take several deep breaths before he went back upstairs. His life had changed drastically in only a couple of weeks and all he could do was hold on for the ride. 

They were now all alone in the house. His cock was already taking notice. He just wanted Potter so _much_. It was all he could think about. 

“In here!” Potter yelled once Draco reached the second level. Draco moved farther down the hallway to his bedroom.

Potter sat on his bed, which was large and sturdy. Draco had never seen his room. 

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“No.” Draco entered the room and tried to hide the fact he was staring. “You’ve got snakes on your bedposts.”

“Oh,” Potter said. “I forgot.”

Snorting, Draco sat down next to him. His wardrobe matched his bed in size and style; a sock was hanging from a drawer. 

“You don’t have books.”

“I’m not a big reader.”

“Pity.”

In the corner was his broom, but it looked a bit dusty. An antique chair was wearing a few of Potter’s robes. 

“Merlin,” Draco said, and kissed Potter. Potter wasn’t expecting it, and their noses knocked together. It took a moment or two, but their mouths found a rhythm and everything went slow and hot. Draco rubbed his own cock to take some of the edge off. 

“Wait.” Potter drew back to remove his glasses. His eyes always looked weird without them. 

Draco trailed kisses down his neck, then helped him unbutton his shirt. Potter’s nipples were brown and pebbled, and _sensitive_. He closed his eyes and bit and licked them. Potter shuddered and arched. 

Draco still couldn’t believe this was happening. He was sucking _Harry Potter’s_ nipples. He was kissing down his trembling stomach. 

Gulping, he undid Harry’s belt and waited a heartbeat before focusing on his zip. Potter brought his hand up, and Draco thought he was about to be stopped, but Potter only helped him push down his jeans. His erection pressed against his underpants and, for a moment, all Draco could do was stare, his mouth watering. 

“All right?” Potter said, not sounding like himself. 

As an answer, Draco dragged his tongue along the outline of his shaft, and he tasted where Potter’s cockhead wet the fabric. 

“Fuck,” Potter panted.

Draco’s eyes fluttered. He was inexperienced, but he wasn’t afraid. He didn’t think he’d ever wanted something in his mouth as much as he wanted Potter’s prick.

“Okay.” With shaking hands, Potter eased his underpants down.

Draco felt his gaze go lidded. He was struggling to breathe. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a nicer cock. 

Potter shifted, and Draco realised that all his staring was making him uncomfortable. Still going slowly, he dragged a gentle thumb up Potter’s shaft. His foreskin was warm and soft. 

Draco stroked him, watching as the pink head leaked over his knuckles. Unable to wait any longer, he took Potter into his mouth, hoping his teeth were out of the way. He tried to make it as wet for him as possible, and he let saliva pool and drip from his lips. He sucked, and Potter’s hand sprang to Draco’s head. 

“Look at me,” Potter whispered, and Draco did, his mouth already growing sore. Potter threaded his fingers in his hair, then started a gentle thrusting. 

_Oh, fuck_, Draco thought, his eyes slipping closed. The sensations were overwhelming. He smelled Potter’s arousal and his sweat. He felt his heartbeat in his cock, and almost choked when precome tickled the back of his throat. 

Potter was whining. His fingers tightened their hold. Draco wanted to see his face. He wanted proof that he was sucking off the boy he’d hated for nearly his whole life. 

He wanted Potter in his arse, now. He wanted Potter to hurt him, to make love to him. He wanted to give him so much more than a blow job.

He released Potter and sat up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“What?”

“I’m ready.” Draco scrambled onto his back. “_Please_.”

Blinking, Potter said, “Are you sure?”

Draco was already pulling off his shirt, then wrestling with his trousers. Potter stilled his hands. He caught Draco’s gaze.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Potter pressed his forehead to Draco’s. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s easy,” Draco said, even though he didn’t really know. “I’ve put things up there before. I can take it.”

They got Draco’s trousers and underpants off. Draco had the stupid urge to cover himself, but he forced his hands to lay on the bed. Potter sat back on his heels to just stare; his pupils were enormous. 

He touched Draco’s thigh, then his bollocks. He was palming his own cock. “You’re so pink.”

“Yeah?” Draco licked his lips. 

“Turn over,” he said, voice rough. “I want to see your hole.”

Stomach clenching, Draco turned over and pressed his face into a pillow. His heart was hammering. 

“Fuck.” Potter parted his cheeks, then didn’t do anything for a good moment. Draco twisted around and found him staring, open-mouthed, at his arse. 

“Like what you see?” Draco tried for his best smirk.

Potter’s eyes flashed. He grabbed his wand and muttered a lube spell. He let the lube slither from his palm to Draco’s arse. 

“It’s cold.”

“Not for long.” Potter touched Draco’s hole gently. He circled it, getting it wet. Draco buried his face in the pillow and moaned. 

“What should I do next?”

“Haven’t you ever buggered yourself?”

“Not really.”

“Oh.” Draco swallowed. “Put your finger in me. Make sure there’s lots of lube.”

“I can do that,” Potter said, but he just continued caressing Draco’s hole. 

“You’re killing me.”

“I don’t want to rush it.”

Draco glared over his shoulder. “It’s my arse, and I want you to hurry up.”

“Fine,” Potter said, and pushed a finger inside him. 

Draco gritted his teeth. Fuck, it _hurt_. The angle was different than he was used to. 

“Okay?”

“Yes.”

Potter moved his finger in and out. “You feel like you’re in pain.”

“I’m not. Add a second.”

“Are you sure?”

“Damn it, Potter. Just do it.”

Potter added a second finger. He worked them in and out, trying to go deeper, but Draco felt himself clenching too hard. The pain was making his head spin.

“This seems impossible,” Potter muttered.

“It’s possible, trust me.”

“You said you’ve never done this before.”

Potter’s knuckles caught on his rim and Draco gritted his teeth. He had to keep breathing, but his chest felt so tight. 

“I _haven’t_,” Draco bit out. He was done with the fingering. Maybe it would feel better when Potter’s cock was inside him. “I’m ready.”

“I don’t think you are. I can barely get two fingers in you.”

“Trust me,” Draco said.

Potter eased out. He hesitated. “Do you want to do it like this?”

Draco wanted to see his face, but he also didn’t want Potter to know how much pain he was in. “This way is okay.”

“Okay.” Potter’s gulps were loud. “Okay.”

“Use more lube.”

“Yeah.” Potter cast another lube spell, this time aiming his wand directly at Draco’s arse. He grabbed Draco’s hip with a trembling hand. “Ready?”

_Not really_, Draco thought, but he said, “Yes.”

Potter pushed in. Draco cried out and lurched forward. 

He drew back, no longer inside. “Fuck, Malfoy. I’m hurting you.”

Draco’s teeth were chattering. “No, I want it. Try again.”

“I can’t get inside, not really. You’re clenching too hard.”

“I don’t care!” Draco’s voice was hoarse.

“You’re shaking.”

“Don’t you want to fuck me?”

Potter eased Draco onto his back. He tried to embrace him, but Draco blocked him with an arm.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to hug you.”

“I don’t want to be hugged!” Tears stung his eyes. “I want you. I want you inside me. Why are you giving up?”

“It’s okay if we don’t have sex right now.”

“You wouldn’t say that to a girl!”

“Yes, I would.”

Now Draco was openly crying. “Why should you be with me if you can’t even put your prick in me?”

Potter pulled him into a hug, ignoring his weak struggles. He kissed Draco’s temple. “I’m not with you just so I can fuck you in the arse.”

“I have _toys_. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s your first time.”

Draco hid his face against Potter’s neck. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted to blow your mind.”

“You’ve already done that.”

“I wanted to show you that being with a boy was just as good.”

“Oh, love.” Potter sounded incredibly tender. 

“_Don’t_ pity me.”

“We will work up to it.” Potter crouched over him and kissed down his chest.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to suck you off.”

“Oh.” Draco wiped away his tears. “Shouldn’t I do that to make it up to you?”

“There’s nothing to make up.”

Potter dragged his mouth along the scars on his chest, then he went lower to dip his tongue into his navel. 

“Tickles,” Draco murmured.

“You have such a pretty cock.” Potter took him into his palm, playing with him. 

“Do you like it?”

“Of course.” Potter licked the head, over and over. Draco had gone soft, but now he was hardening quickly. He was afraid to look down; he didn’t want to come too soon. 

“Suck it.”

“Yeah.” Potter took the tip into his mouth, whirling his tongue. He sucked hard, and Draco cried out. Potter was grinning as he took him further down. He grunted and slurped. 

“Harry, I’m going to come, I’m going to—” It was too soon, but he couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t handle the pleasure, he didn’t know how to hold it off. 

For some stupid reason, Potter pulled back right as Draco orgasmed, causing him to spurt on his face and his sheets. Some even got in his _hair_.

“Ugh,” Potter said, wiping his eyes.

Draco was utterly boneless. He was also laughing tiredly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you just swallow?”

Potter looked away. “I was afraid of the taste.”

“You idiot,” Draco said affectionately.

Potter smacked his lips. “Yeah, I should have just swallowed.” He pulled Draco into a relaxed embraced, and Draco rested his head on his chest. He heard Potter’s strong heartbeat.

“Thank you,” Draco said.

“You make it sound like a transaction.”

“I just want you to know that you did a good job.” _Unlike myself_.

Potter caressed Draco’s arm with his fingertips. “I can’t believe _Sectumsempra_ left you scarred. I mean, of course I can believe it, but I wanted to think Snape fixed it.”

“He saved my life.” Draco stifled a yawn. He really didn’t know how he felt about it. “I guess I deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I was fully prepared to murder someone.”

“So was I.”

“You were doing it for better reasons.”

Potter took a deep breath. “Not long ago, I would have agreed with you, but now I can understand that you were doing it to protect your family.”

Draco pressed a hard kiss to his jaw. He closed his eyes, overwhelmed. He wasn’t ready to be in love with Potter. 

He tried to reach for Potter, to get a hand around his cock, but Potter stopped him.

“You don’t need to make me come right now.”

“Don’t you want it?”

“Of course I want it. Just not right now.”

They were silent for a minute.

“What about this?” Potter lifted Draco’s left arm. He was talking about Draco’s Mark, or what was left of it. The skull and snake had been replaced by a red burn.

“I hate it.”

“Have you tried getting it removed?”

“No.”

“You should have a Healer look at it.”

“I’m not . . . I don’t want to forget.”

Potter kissed the scar. “I want you to stay the night. We can order pizza.”

Draco nodded. Emotion stole his voice.

*

Breakfast was rudely interrupted by Potter’s Floo flaring to life. It was the next morning, and Draco was still riding high on _sleeping_ next to him. They had spent the evening eating pizza and watching telly.

Which was all right, except he really, really wanted to try shagging again.

“It’s probably my mum.” Draco left his steaming tea to go upstairs. He started when he saw his mum, Mrs Weasley, and Teddy.

“Where is Harry?” Mrs Weasley insisted.

“I’m right here,” Potter said behind Draco. “Is there something the matter?”

“_Harry_,” Mrs Weasley said through bared teeth. “I heard you were allowing Mrs Malfoy to sort through _your_ belongings.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know what to keep and I’m over living in a mausoleum.” 

“Yes, but there are many things here that are very valuable and rightfully yours.”

“I’m not a thief, Weasley,” his mum said. 

“I want to see my new room!” Teddy said.

Draco opened his arms, and Teddy ran to hug him. 

“Why haven’t you visited my nan?” Teddy said. “Do you not like her?”

“I like her very much,” Draco said.

Potter ruffled Teddy’s hair. “We’ve been busy, Ted. I’m sorry.” He turned to Mrs Weasley. “You are more than welcome to help too. I just thought Mrs Malfoy would have a better understanding since she is a member of the Black family.”

Mrs Weasley grunted. “Yes, well, not everyone wants the best for you.” She shot a glare at Draco’s mum. “I _will_ help, if you don’t mind.”

“I want to see my new room!” Teddy repeated. 

They went upstairs to Teddy’s near-empty room. It was very awkward, and Draco felt his ears burning. His mum looked at him and seemed to know what he’d been doing with Potter. 

“It’s a good room,” Mrs Weasley said reluctantly. “A bit dark, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“We _are_ witches, Wealsey,” Draco’s mum drawled. “We can use what are called _spells_ to add more light.”

Potter’s lips twitched. Mrs Weasley looked at him, and he smoothed his expression. 

“There are no toys,” Teddy said, alarmed. 

“Those will come later,” Potter said. 

“Surely he doesn’t need more!” Mrs Weasley said.

Draco and his mum glared at her. Potter looked embarrassed. 

“If you need any furniture, dear, we have tons of beds and wardrobes at the Burrow that are going unused.” 

“We also have furniture for you,” Draco’s mum said. “And it’s probably in better condition.”

“What does that mean?” Mrs Weasley’s eyes flashed.

“Thank you, but I will be buying new,” Potter said. 

Both women looked disappointed. 

Potter sighed. “Let’s go downstairs to sort through everything.”

In the parlour, Draco showed them how to retrieve the P.V.ed items. “Make an upside down V in the air and say _Daturum Me_. The items reappear in the order we stored them.”

“We will be here all day,” Mrs Wealsey said. 

“It will probably take a few days,” Potter said. 

Draco’s mum snorted. “You are perfectly welcome to go home.”

“I know that!”

“_Daturum Me_,” Potter said, moving his wand, and the cushion appeared.

Draco’s mum examined it closely. “I recognise this fabric. It dates to the nineteenth century. If you don’t want to keep it, then you should put it in the Black vault.”

“That vault already has too much stuff, and the goblins tell me most of it is far older than two hundred years.” Potter shifted his feet.

“Yes, but these are still _antiques_.” Draco’s mum’s face was pink. “You need to be a good steward of the Black heritage, and binning items that aren’t hundreds and hundreds of years old is not the right decision.”

“It’s Harry’s decision!” Mrs Weasley piped. 

“I will donate it,” Potter said. “Perhaps it will go for a good price because of the fabric.”

Draco’s mum looked outraged. “You can’t _donate_ these items! They belong with this house, they belong with my family!”

“_Once again_, it is Harry’s decision—”

“Would you like the cushion?” Potter said to Draco’s mum.

“I will take it if you are determined to discard it.”

Mrs Weasley looked like she’d swallowed a frog. “This is exactly what I was afraid of!”

“This is my family we are talking about!” Draco’s mum said. 

“_Daturum Me_,” Potter said, interrupting their squabble, and the perfume bottle cabinet popped into existence. 

“I remember this.” Draco’s mum’s nose crinkled. “Mrs Black had a ridiculous fixation on Parisian perfume. You may sell the bottles. I’m sure it will earn you a small fortune.”

“Thank you,” Potter said, and Draco listened for a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

They continued Summoning items for the next few hours and his mum continued her battle with Mrs Weasley. The portraits were on his mum’s side and began saying very rude things to Mrs Weasley. Draco did everything in his power not to laugh. Potter just looked tired.

Teddy spent most of the time watching telly.

By half past three, everyone was hungry and exhausted. His mum left first, then Mrs Weasley, who tried to speak to Potter alone, but he held up his hand. “Another time,” he said. A moment later, she and Teddy were swallowed by the Floo. 

“Bugger,” Potter said, collapsing on the sofa. He pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes. 

“I shouldn’t have asked my mum to get involved.”

“You think?” Potter sighed heavily and gave him a tired smile. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was bad.”

“At least they are talking.”

“They were about to curse each other.”

Potter put his arm around Draco. “We can’t have our families utterly loathing each other while we’re together.”

“Are we together?”

Potter went still. “I suppose we are.”

“We haven’t gone on a proper date.”

“No, we haven’t.”

They were silent. Draco rested his head on Potter’s shoulder just because he could. 

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready to make it official,” Draco said. “I just want to be with you.”

Potter laughed. “You make it sound like you’ll be my dirty little secret.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Potter moved so they faced each other. He took Draco’s chin in his hand. “You deserve more than that.”

Draco stared at the wall. “If you were any other bloke, I would agree, but you’re not like anyone else. You’re _Harry Potter_.”

“So?”

“You are good and brave. You aren’t afraid to make sacrifices. And I’m someone who thinks terrible things about toddlers and werewolves and Muggles.”

“You accept Muggles now. You are trying to be a better person. That’s bravery.”

“I don’t think so.”

Potter kissed his nose. “I forgive you, you know.”

Draco jerked away. He felt an onslaught of intense emotion. He wanted to lash out; he wanted to cry. “Thank you,” he whispered, then felt like an idiot. 

He didn’t want Potter to know how fucked up he was on the inside. He didn’t want him to know how bloody desperate he was for his approval, and how this desperation was nothing new.

“I want to see your cock,” Draco said.

“Right now?”

“Yes, _right now_. I want to touch it.”

Potter hesitated, then made quick work of his belt and buttons. He shoved his pants and trousers down, revealing his soft cock. Draco stared and stared, which made it twitch. 

Draco licked his palm and began to stroke Potter. His eyelids fluttered as he felt Potter stiffen. 

“You have such a big prick,” Draco said. “No wonder my virgin arse couldn’t take it.”

“Fuck,” Potter whispered.

Draco Conjured some lube and dropped his wand to the floor. He got Potter dripping wet and tightened his fist as much as he could. “Can you imagine it? You fucking my tight, tight hole?”

Potter thrust, trembling, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. “How are you so good at this?” he gasped.

“Because I’m a slag for you.” Draco licked his cockhead, tasting the lube and his precome. 

Potter’s hand jumped to his head. Draco felt how Potter wanted to force him down, but also how he was holding back. It made Draco feel sexy and powerful; it made him feel _wanted_.

He could give amazing head; he _knew_ he could. He just needed practice. 

Taking a deep breath, he took Potter deep in his mouth. Potter groaned and thrust, and Draco coughed and drew back. 

“Sorry,” Draco said quickly.

“What?” Potter panted and stuttered. “Why are you—there’s no—”

Draco swallowed down his cock again, wanting to go further, wanting to get it into his throat. There was no way Ginny fucking Weasley ever let Potter choke her with his cock. 

“Oh my god,” Potter said, and Draco imagined his eyes rolling back. He wanted to see Potter’s face. He wanted Potter to look at _him_ as he orgasmed. 

He released Potter and wiped strings of saliva from his mouth. Potter slumped back, gasping, his stupid glasses crooked. Draco smiled, and he knew he looked smug, but he couldn’t help it. 

“You’re so hard now,” Draco said, stroking him again. “I think you’re close to coming.”

“Suck my bollocks.”

Disappointment flashed in Draco. He’d forgotten something and Potter had _noticed_. He did what Potter asked, tonguing, lapping, and Potter’s thighs were shaking.

Draco moved closer and put his arm around his shoulders. He kissed him, wanting him to taste himself, as he stroked and stroked his shaft. Now Potter was trembling all over and making these little sounds in his throat. 

“I want you to come for me.”

“Draco.”

“Now. Do it now.”

Potter laughed breathily. His eyes cracked open and Draco felt his own need deep in his gut, deep in his heart. He loved Potter’s stupid face. 

“You’re bloody good at this.”

“I told you to come.”

Potter laughed again and wrapped his hand around Draco’s on his prick. “You want me to come quickly? Go slower, use your other hand to fondle my bollocks.”

“But—” Draco liked holding Potter.

“I can help you.” Potter tugged on his own bollocks, which made him thrust in Draco’s hand.

“I don’t need your help!”

“_Slower_,” Potter said.

Draco dragged his hand up and down Potter’s shaft. He felt like he was failing. Ginny Weasley probably knew how to get Potter off without instruction. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s good,” Potter said, but he seemed to be reacting to his own touch. 

When Potter came, Draco watched hungrily, but he felt like he wasn’t involved, like he’d accidentally walked in on Potter wanking.

“You’re gorgeous,” Potter said once he caught his breath.

Draco liked how his come webbed his fingers. He wanted to taste some of it, but he’d lost most of his confidence, and he didn’t want Poter to judge him.

“I guess,” Draco said, and cast a combination of cleaning spells. Potter reached for him, but he stood to avoid his hands.

“Aren’t you hard?”

“No,” he said, even though they both could see that he was. “I don’t feel like it.”

Potter put his cock away and righted his glasses. “Okay.”

“I have to work tomorrow, but we should go furniture shopping soon.”

“You want to talk about furniture right now?”

“No, I want to _leave_. I’m just trying to be polite.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Would you mind if I invited Pansy and her Muggle girlfriend?”

“You can tell me if I did something wrong.”

“Of course, I won’t invite them if you want to look at magical furniture, but your tastes seem to run simpler.” 

Potter stood. “Draco.”

“Yes or no, Potter. I want to send the owl as soon as possible.”

Potter followed him to the front door. “Will you look at me?”

“_No_.”

“Why not?”

Draco was crying without warning. It just happened. One minute he was fine, then next he was a blubbering mess. 

“I thought we had fun,” Potter said, sounding very lost.

Draco hid his face. “I wanted to impress you.”

“You did impress me.”

“I couldn’t make you come without your help.”

“That’s not what happened.”

Draco wrapped himself around Potter. His tears wet his shirt. “I want you to be _crazy_ for me.”

“I am crazy for you.”

“No, you’re not! You didn’t like what I was doing to you. It wasn’t _enough_.”

“It was good, really good.”

“You were probably thinking about Ginny Weasley the whole time.” Draco knew he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words left his mouth. 

Potter stilled. “I wasn’t. I was just enjoying my time with you.”

“You all but told me I was doing it wrong.”

“You weren’t doing it wrong. It seemed like you wanted me to come quickly, and so I told you what makes me come quickly.”

Draco opened and closed his mouth. He knew he was being ridiculous.

“Sometimes sex doesn’t live up to expectations and that’s okay.” Potter smiled. “It rarely does, if I’m being honest.”

“I want to be the best. I want you to know I’m the best.”

“Sex isn’t everything in a relationship.”

“Yes, it is! People only say that when their sex life is shit.”

“You mean more to me than that.”

Draco broke the embrace. He didn’t want to touch Potter anymore; he didn’t want to need him. “Can I invite Pansy and her Muggle?”

“Yeah.” Potter was trying to catch his eye.

“Good,” Draco said, and left.

*

Harry was obsessed with Malfoy. _Draco_.

He thought about him when he woke up and when he went to sleep. He examined every conversation, every little thing that happened between them. He wasn’t used to thinking so hard about romance, but he wanted to get things right with Draco.

It was obvious that Draco compared himself to Ginny, and Harry didn’t know how to prevent it. He didn’t even think he could prevent it. Draco needed to learn how to value himself.

It had been almost a week since Draco had given him that _incredible_ hand job, and Harry had seen more of Mrs Malfoy than her son. He didn’t know if Draco was still upset, and Draco hadn’t given him a chance to ask. Andromeda was back at home, mobile with help from a magical cane, and Teddy seemed to be taking everything in stride. 

That morning, Harry had finally received an owl from Draco about furniture shopping later in the day with Pansy and her girlfriend, and Harry was nervous. He didn’t want things to be _weird_. He missed Draco. Mrs Malfoy looked so much like him around the eyes. 

“I think we’re done,” she said, examining the last item that he and Draco had P.V.ed. 

“Great,” Harry said tiredly. He’d let her keep loads more than he intended, and he was glad that Molly had stayed home. 

Mrs Malfoy hesitated. “My son quite likes you.”

_Oh, bugger_, he thought. He _really_ wasn’t in the right frame of mind for this conversation. “I really like him too.”

She was scrutinising him. “Draco was always meant to marry Astoria Greengrass. My husband and I had planned on it since they were children.”

He frowned. “Draco had an arranged marriage?”

“Not exactly, but it would have made his father and me very happy.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to know that I’m _trying_. Lucius is as well, but Draco refuses to see him.”

“Okay.”

She gave him a strained smile. “It would be wonderful if you had tea with us sometime.”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “At the Manor?”

“Where else? Lucius doesn’t get out much.”

“Sorry, Mrs Malfoy, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable with that.”

“But the Manor is a part of Draco. You cannot escape it if you want to be his husband.”

“His _what_?”

“I apologise,” she said. “I’m jumping ahead.”

“Thank you for the invitation. I will certainly think about it.” He prayed the conversation would end.

“Good.” She headed for the Floo, her pockets laden with minimised Black heirlooms. “Goodbye, Mr Potter.”

He waved awkwardly, and she disappeared amid the flames. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, and rubbed hard at his face. He checked his watch. He still had time for a shower before meeting Draco.

Later, as he walked to the furniture shop, he reviewed again his last conversation with Draco. He regretted telling him that sex didn’t live up to expectations. He didn’t want Draco to think he was settling. He also didn’t want Draco to think sex with Ginny had always been bad. It’d been really, really good in the beginning. 

Draco wanted sex to be _perfect_. He wanted to do everything right, say everything right. Harry remembered what his arse had felt like, the warm tightness of it, and he stopped abruptly. A few Muggles knocked into him, and swore. 

He had only got the tip in, and he really wanted to know what it felt like when Draco was open enough to let him inside fully. He started walking again, his mouth so damn parched. 

It was weird thinking about _Draco Malfoy_ like this. It was weird that Harry knew what his arsehole looked like. It was pink and vulnerable. Harry wanted to taste it. He wanted to give Draco another blow job. His cock was pink like his arse, and it was long and _pretty_. Harry blinked. It was so strange he now thought cocks were pretty. It was so strange he was even thinking about a bloke’s arse. He hadn’t been interested in anal sex with Ginny. He’d been too obsessed with her fanny.

Somehow his panic, his fear of losing control, had disappeared. He didn’t want to rush things with Draco, but he also wanted to give Draco what he wanted.

He jumped on the Tube and eventually made it to _Haus_, a shop that looked too posh for Harry. He didn’t want anything special; he wanted something _comfortable_.

He slipped through the door and spotted Draco and Pansy. “Hello,” he said awkwardly.

Draco was glaring at Harry like he wanted to kill him.

“Are you angry with me or something?”

Blinking, Draco said, “No.”

Pansy was smirking. “Potter, I want you to meet my girlfriend, Jennifer.”

Jennifer waved shyly. She was a very pretty girl with large eyes and freckles on her nose. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Jennifer inched closer. “Are you really a wizard?”

He looked at Pansy in surprise.

“I told her a few days ago,” Pansy said in a bored voice. 

Blushing, Jennifer said, “Can I see your wand?”

“Maybe later.” Harry turned his attention to Draco. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Draco touched his arm. “I want to fucking _devour_ you, Potter.”

“We heard that,” Pansy said. 

“Shut up,” Draco said. He took Harry’s hand, then dropped it. “The Muggles. I forgot.”

“They are getting better about it,” Jennifer said.

“It’s still tremendously _stupid_ that they care about blokes buggering each other,” Draco said.

Jennifer nodded. “They also don’t like it when women shag each other.”

“Cool,” Draco said sarcastically, and led them to the sofas.

“Some witches and wizards have a problem with it, too,” Pansy said. “Like your father.”

“We are not talking about my father!” He halted in front of the snootiest sofa Harry had ever seen. “What do you think?”

“Too posh,” Harry said.

“It’s _modern_.”

“It looks uncomfortable,” Harry said. “There’s no cushions on the arms. The back looks like Dracula’s collar.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Draco said.

“We’re not shopping for you,” Pansy said.

“I dabble in interior design,” Jennifer said. “Tell me what you’re looking for and maybe I can find it.”

“Um,” Harry said, feeling completely out of his league. “I want cushions on the arms. I want it to be long enough so I can kip on it.”

“What colour?”

“I dunno . . . red?”

Draco was outraged. “You cannot have a red sofa! It will clash with everything!”

“Green would be nice, too.”

“_Green_? You want your parlour to look like the Slytherin common room?”

“Draco,” Pansy said, “you’re being an arse.”

“I already know that!” Draco took a deep breath, then another. “It’s your house, Potter. You can do whatever you want with it.”

Harry was more bemused than anything. “I don’t know why you care so much.”

“Follow me,” Jennifer said, and they walked down a few aisles until they reached the clearance sale. 

Harry zeroed in on a dark grey sofa with big fluffy cushions. “I want that one.”

“Grey is just so boring,” Draco said.

“I also want a few of those lights,” Harry said, which he thought looked sleek and modern.

“Ah, they are Wastberg lamps,” Jennifer said, checking the tags. “Good choice.”

“See?” Harry said. “I do have taste.”

“I suppose,” Draco said, but he was smiling. 

They walked around the shop, and Draco and Pansy were very interested in the tiny electronics. Jennifer helped Harry pick out furniture for Teddy’s room and a carpet for the parlour. Harry was glad when Draco didn’t have an opinion about Teddy’s bed or wardrobe. 

Afterward, everyone was knackered, and they staggered to the pub next door. They ordered pizza and pints and cast a sneaky Silencing Spell on the Muggles cheering on a telly football game.

“Brilliant,” Jennifer said, her eyes wide. 

“Now is the time to ask us questions,” Pansy said.

Jennifer thought for a moment. “What is your favourite spell?”

“_Accio_,” they all said at once. 

When they explained the spell, Jennifer looked devastated. “I want to have that ability!”

Draco leaned closer to Harry. “I heard my mum has been bothering you.”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I wish it’d been you instead.”

Draco almost looked embarrassed. “I had work.”

“I know.”

“Did my mum escape with all your treasures?”

“Sort of.” Harry shook his head. “Do you see her more often now?”

“Not really.” Draco looked away. “It was one of the reasons why I stayed away this past week.”

“_One_ of the reasons?”

“Yes.”

“She invited me to the Manor. She wants me to have tea with your father and to marry you.”

Draco choked on his ale. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

Harry had so many private things he wanted to say to Draco. “I had a lot of fun last time. I hope you don’t think I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, I know you enjoyed it.”

“I hope you don’t think it was _lacking_.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Draco said. “You should host a dinner and invite Mrs Weasley and my mum. Maybe even Andromeda if she’s up to it.”

“Why?”

Draco touched his hand. “Perhaps to make it official that we are dating.”

“They already know we’re dating.”

“Not Andromeda. Not Mr Weasley.”

“Would you invite your father?”

“Absolutely not.” Draco sat up straighter. “Also, it would be a good time to force a truce. If Mrs Wealsey and my mum want to help Andromeda, they need to stop having rows.”

Harry was frowning. The thought of hosting a dinner like that made his stomach churn. “I’m not sure if I want Arthur knowing about us yet.”

Draco went still. “Oh.”

“I mean, he probably already knows.”

“It doesn’t matter, Potter. It was just a thought.”

Harry knew he’d hurt him. “No, you’re right. He should be at the dinner. We shouldn’t hide.” He glanced at Pansy and Jennifer, and they were both watching. 

“Nice save, Potter,” Pansy said.

He rolled his eyes. 

“Coming out to your family can be really hard,” Jennifer said. 

“Right,” Harry said, uncomfortable. 

“We should do this again,” Draco said loudly. “Perhaps next time we can go to the cinema. I wouldn’t mind seeing _The Mummy Returns_ again.”

“I heard that film is rubbish,” Jennifer said, and Draco and Pansy looked offended. 

Harry sipped his pint and tried to not freak out silently. Hosting a dinner _was_ a good idea; he just didn’t know where to start.

*

Harry and Draco spent the next week planning the dinner and organising Teddy’s room.

Muggles had tried to deliver his new furniture, and Harry had to turn them away. He’d forgotten it was illegal for Muggles to deliver to magical residences with ancient wards. He ended up hiring an elf moving company for delivery and install. 

“He’s missing a toy box,” Harry said one day.

Draco was busy hanging dragon-patterned curtains. “Do you want to buy one?”

“No.” He went to Sirius’ room and found his old dusty trunk. He took it outside to clean up and buff its exterior. Draco followed him, and sat in a garden chair.

“You know there’s spells that do that for you,” Draco said. He was flipping through a cookbook they had found in the attic.

“I want to do this by hand.”

They chose a random night to host the dinner, and begged everyone to come. Molly and Arthur _did not_ want to share their dinner with Death Eaters, and Andromeda wanted to avoid a row. 

Finally, after Harry had badgered them enough, they all agreed to attend. Harry didn’t see it, but Draco said his mum was _delighted_. Harry was more than a little nervous to come out to everybody, but he also wasn’t going to hide.

On the night of the dinner, Harry and Draco made decent Cornish pasties and dusted off more than a few bottles of wine. 

“Thank you, magic,” Draco said, sipping a wine from 1781. 

They shrunk the kitchen table and brought it up to the parlour so Andromeda wouldn’t have to bother with the stairs. Draco spent a good forty-five minutes setting the table with Mrs Black’s Parisian-stitched serviettes and gleaming crystal. Harry finished the last details of Teddy’s bedroom.

When everything was completed, Harry and Draco stood by the Floo to wait. Draco kissed him softly on the cheek.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Yes,” Harry said, sweating.

“Do you want me to stay the night?”

Too preoccupied with their own nerves about the dinner, they hadn’t done anything sexual since the hand job on the sofa, and Harry knew that Draco was growing impatient.

“Yes,” he said.

Draco kissed him again. “Good.”

The Floo flared to life. Arthur was the first to arrive.

“Andromeda and Teddy should be coming any minute,” he said, not looking at Draco.

“Have you two been properly introduced?”

Draco held out his hand. He was wearing a green shirt and black trousers, and he looked like a posh business bloke. “It’s nice to see you again, sir.”

Arthur took his hand somewhat reluctantly. “Yes. I believe the last time we met you were testifying to the Wizengamot.” 

“That’s right,” Draco said, his smile bright.

Green flames erupted from the fireplace and Andromeda appeared, followed by Molly and Teddy. 

“Hello!” Harry said in greeting. He hoped his expression didn’t betray his nervousness. “Welcome to my home!”

Draco was already pouring wine into crystal goblets. “Here you go, Madam.” He handed Molly the first and she took it approvingly. 

Teddy pulled on Andromeda’s purple cloak. “I want to put my toys to bed, Nan. Tell Harry.”

“Tell me what?”

“He brought over some toys to leave here,” she said.

Harry beamed. “Do you lot want to see his finished room?”

“Yes!” Arthur and Molly said.

“I’ll stay down here and wait for my mum,” Draco said.

“Are you sure?”

Draco gulped his wine. “Yes.”

Harry guided them upstairs, and Molly cast a spell so Andromeda could be floated to the next level.

Arthur marveled at the cleanliness. “The last time I saw this place, it looked like a Muggle haunted house.”

“I beg your pardon!” said a portrait. 

“Draco and I did a lot of work. We still need to clear out all the curses, but that will come later.” 

They crowded into Teddy’s room, and Harry waved on the lights. He watched their faces avidly. 

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Molly said. “The curtains are precious.”

Arthur ran a hand over the wardrobe. “Is this Muggle made? Very sturdy.”

“Mrs Malfoy picked out the colours,” Harry said. 

Teddy jumped on his bed. He was carrying three soft toys: a rabbit, an elephant, and a fox. 

“Do you want to put them in your new toy box?” Harry said, excited to show off more of his work.

“No, I like them here.”

“It’s Sirius’ trunk,” Molly said, delighted. “It looks practically new!”

“Yeah.” Harry grinned. “I did that all by hand.”

“Fascinating,” Arthur said.

Harry looked at Andromeda. “Do you like it?”

Andromeda shielded her face. She was crying. “I’ve just been through so much. With the death of Ted, then Remus and Nymphadora, and me left to care for little Teddy. My body couldn’t take the stress. I’m okay with being at the end of my life, but I was so worried about my grandson.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” Molly said gently. 

“I know that now,” she said, drying her eyes with her wand. She smiled wetly at Harry. “I know you will take good care of him when I’m gone. I know you will be a good father to him.”

Harry’s throat tightened and he had to blink away some tears. “Thank you. It means a lot to me to hear that.”

The roar of the Floo came from downstairs. 

“That must be Narcissa Malfoy.” Molly shot Arthur a concerned look.

“We will handle whatever happens,” he said. 

They went back down to greet her. Mrs Malfoy stood tall in elegant blue robes. She smiled and took Harry’s hand.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, _Harry_,” she said.

“You are welcome,” he answered awkwardly.

Draco’s eyes were glittery.

Mrs Malfoy hugged Andromeda and Teddy, then she turned to Molly and Arthur.

“Good evening,” she said.

“Good evening.” Molly’s eye twitched.

There was an awful, long silence. 

“Let’s eat!” Harry said.

They gathered around the table and Harry fetched the food from the kitchen. Draco made sure everyone’s wine was refilled.

“This table is set beautifully,” Mrs Malfoy said to Draco.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Harry and Draco sat next to each other. The candles made everyone’s faces golden. The crystal chimed as they began to eat. 

“Has that new potion been easier on your stomach?” Mrs Malfoy said to Andromeda.

“Yes, thank you for asking.”

Molly frowned around a bite. “I didn’t know you had an issue with a potion.”

“It was nothing, really,” Andromeda said. 

“She was sicking up.” Teddy poked at some steamed veg. “It was gross.”

“Yes, thank you, Ted,” Andromeda said.

“I heard you are working at King’s Cross,” Arthur said to Draco.

Draco nodded. He had to finish chewing more answering. “Yes. It’s been quite a lot of fun.”

“I’m sure you are seeing the barmiest Muggles,” he said.

“Oh, I do. I’ve got loads of stories.”

Arthur looked excited. “I’d like to hear them some time.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Teddy was falling asleep in his chair, a rabbit tucked under his arm.

Sighing, Molly said, “Being in this house will always remind me of Sirius. He had such a hard go of it.”

“Yes, I miss him,” Arthur said. 

“As do I,” Mrs Malfoy said. “We were childhood playmates. I wish things hadn’t spoiled once we were at Hogwarts.”

“I remember you two being very close,” Andromeda said. “I think Mum even floated the idea of you marrying one another.”

Mrs Malfoy shuddered. “We were like brother and sister.”

Andromeda laughed. “When has that stopped our family?”

“Was Sirius gay?” Harry asked suddenly.

“No,” Molly said.

“Yes,” Mrs Malfoy said. “It was rumoured that he was with Remus Lupin.”

“No, he wasn’t!” Molly said. “Remus was in love with Tonks.”

“Can we not talk about this in front of Ted?” Andromeda said.

“Remus never said a word to me about a relationship with Sirius.” Arthur straightened his glasses. “I was close to both men. Not a word.”

Draco looked unimpressed. “Perhaps they didn’t say anything because they knew you’d react like this.”

“I don’t follow,” Arthur said.

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll say something. I’m bisexual. Draco and I are dating.”

Molly blinked. “What is bisexual again?”

“It means he likes boys _and_ girls,” Arthur answered quietly.

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, so there’s a chance you still might end up with a girl?”

“Don’t count on it,” Mrs Malfoy said. “My son is a lovely catch.”

“Mum!”

Harry was utterly mortified, but he carried on. “I hope nothing changes between us. I still think of you as my family.”

“Of course nothing changes!” Molly said. “We _love_ you, Harry.”

“Even if I’m dating Draco Malfoy?”

“Yes,” Molly said, her smile looking painful.

“Absolutely,” Arthur said with some force.

Andromeda patted his hand. “You are the best thing to happen to Ted and me. I would never, ever want to hurt you.”

“Thank you.” Harry had to gulp several times. “There’s another thing we must talk about. Now that Draco is in my life, and now that Mrs Malfoy wants to help Andromeda and Teddy, we need to do more to keep the peace. We need to stop fighting.”

Molly looked incensed. “I have done nothing wrong!”

“I’m speaking to everyone at this table,” Harry said calmly. “We all need to work harder at being respectful and civil.”

“They were _Death Eaters_,” Molly said. “They tried to kill my children! They succeeded at killing countless friends.”

“And you murdered my sister!” Mrs Malfoy said.

Molly slammed her fist on the table. “She had it coming!” 

“This is exactly what I’m talking about,” Harry said. “You don’t want me to talk about gay things in front of Teddy? Think of the example you set when you fight in front of him. Do you want him to grow up thinking hate is okay?”

Molly and Arthur looked shocked. Mrs Malfoy was smirking.

“He’s also talking about you, Mum,” Draco said. 

There was a knock on the door. Mrs Malfoy stood quickly. “I will get it.”

Frowning, Harry stood as well. It was strange that she took it upon herself to answer his door.

Lucius Malfoy appeared behind his wife a few seconds later. Arthur and Draco jumped to their feet. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco yelled. 

Arthur had his wand at the ready. “I’d like to know that as well.”

Mr Malfoy held up his hands. He was looking at Draco. “I’ve come to tell everyone that I don’t care if my son is in a gay relationship with Harry Potter. In fact, I accept it.”

Mrs Malfoy nudged him.

“I love my son dearly. All I’ve ever wanted was for him to be happy.” Mr Malfoy’s voice was raspy. He had more wrinkles and his eyes were a bit watery. 

“Thank you, Father,” Draco said quietly. “You may leave now.”

“Please don’t be like that,” Mrs Malfoy said. “It’s been such a long time since you have talked to him. Please let him stay.”

“It’s not my decision,” Draco said, and walked out of the room.

Everyone looked at Harry. He blinked a few times, trying to understand what the hell was happening. 

Harry remembered how Mr Malfoy stared at him from behind a Death Eater’s mask.

“You just stood by and watched Voldemort torture me,” Harry said. “I was only fourteen and you wanted me to die.”

“I was wrong,” he said. 

Molly snorted. 

“I heard your testimony to the Wizengamot. You tried to blame everyone else for your mistakes,” Harry said.

Mr Malfoy raised his chin, and it reminded Harry so much of Draco that he flinched. “I did my time in Azkaban.”

“You should be dead!” Arthur said.

Mr Malfoy’s hand went to his wand. “I won’t stand to be threatened.”

“This is why Draco doesn’t want anything to do with you!” Harry said. “You are not remorseful, not really. You just don’t like that your life is in shambles now.”

“That is not true,” he answered. “It kills me that I’ve hurt my son.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to snort. “Countless people died because of you, and all you can think about is your own family.”

“No!” Mr Malfoy’s teeth were bared. “I do think of them. I—it’s harder for me to talk about. But I do think about them, Potter. I _never_ stop thinking about them.”

“Serves you right,” Harry said.

“Yes,” he said quietly. 

“I think this dinner is over,” Andromeda said, standing shakily. “Ted and I are going home.”

“Arthur will help you,” Molly said. “I will stay to clean up.”

“You are my guest!” Harry said. “You mustn’t do that.”

Draco reappeared, and he was stone-faced. “I will take my parents home.”

Mr and Mrs Malfoy looked very relieved.

Harry grabbed his arm. “Will you come back? Tonight?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” he sighed, and began clearing the table. 

Molly aimed her wand at plates and muttered “_Evanesco_.”

“No, please leave it.”

“I want to help, dear.”

“I don’t want your help.”

Her expression flickered. “All right, dear. I understand.”

Andromeda hobbled to Harry. She cupped his cheek. “You are a good man.”

“Thank you.” His heart felt very heavy.

“Bye, Harry!” Teddy hugged him. 

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Harry said.

“Yes and no.”

Harry laughed. “Good answer.” He ushered them all to the Floo and sighed in relief when the last person disappeared in the flames. 

Merlin, what a disaster.

*

When Draco returned, it was half-past midnight and Harry was dozing on the sofa. The dining table was back in the kitchen and every dish was cleaned.

Draco crawled into his lap. He licked Harry’s chin and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh, hello.”

“Don’t tell me you’re too tired to shag. I came prepared this time.”

“How did it go with your parents?”

“I’ve agreed to have tea at the Manor this Sunday,” Draco said.

“So you are giving your father another chance?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Draco pushed Harry’s shirt off and took his nipple into his mouth. 

Harry hissed. “It was strange having your father in my house.”

Draco got a hand into his pants to stroke him. “I don’t want to fucking talk about my father.”

“Do you think the dinner went well despite the terrible ending?”

“I want you to _shut up_.” Draco slipped to his knees and took Harry into his mouth.

“Oh, fuck.” Harry buried a hand in his hair.

Draco bobbed his head and moaned. He held Harry’s bollocks, massaging them. 

Harry forced his eyes to stay open. He liked seeing Draco’s mouth wrapped around his cock. A flush bloomed nicely on his cheeks, down his neck. His eyes fluttered and remained partially open, a sliver of grey. 

“You’re going to make me come.”

Draco sat up, and his lips looked raw. “Come on, then. Let’s go upstairs.” He grabbed Harry’s hand, trying to yank him to his feet, but Harry pulled him into an inelegant hug.

“We don’t have to rush.” Harry kissed him deeply.

He jerked back. “I want to rush. I want you to fuck me. I’ve always wanted you to fuck me.”

“Always?”

“Let’s go upstairs,” Draco repeated. 

“Okay,” Harry said, and his cock twitched.

Draco laughed. 

They stumbled up to his dark bedroom, and Harry kicked off his pants and trousers as Draco lit a single candle.

“Romantic,” Harry said.

Draco dragged him onto the bed. He kissed Harry feverishly, and his mouth tasted like precome and wine. Their tongues moved together slowly, tasting, and Harry thrust without thinking. 

Gasping, Draco broke away. He fumbled in his pocket and produced a tiny pink vibrator. He spelled it back to its normal size and let Harry hold it.

“It was a birthday present from Pansy,” Draco said.

Harry shook his head. “Of course.” He turned it on and let it vibrate in his hand. “What do you want to do with it?”

“I want you to stick it in me, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Do you not like the idea?”

Harry was so aroused he struggled to speak. “Oh.”

“You have to give me an answer.”

“I heard there’s a spell that helps with . . . you know.”

It was a joke among boys, a spell that allowed others to bugger you. Harry used to think it didn’t exist, but now he wasn’t so sure.

“I’ve heard about it, too. Do you know how to cast it?”

“I could try.”

Draco shook his head. “No, I’m not doing it. The last thing I need is you rushing me to St Mungo’s because my arse is trying to eat me.”

Harry laughed nervously. “Yeah.” He pressed the vibrator to Draco’s stiffy in his trousers, and Draco sucked in a breath. “It won’t be too much for you?”

“I’ve used it before. Just don’t turn it on high.”

“Okay.” He was trembling a little. “I suppose you should get undressed now.”

“That’s usually how it works.” Draco stood to quickly do away with his clothes.

“I need more light,” Harry said, but his wand was in his trousers by the door. Draco fetched it for him, and it was so fucking hot to see his cock bobbing as he walked. 

Draco handed him his wand, and Harry forced himself to look up.

“_Lumos_.” A few more candles came to life. 

“Like what you see?”

Harry grabbed his hips and hauled him onto the bed. It felt good to hold Draco like he’d held Ginny. 

“I like it when you’re rough.”

“When have I been rough?”

Draco shrugged. “It’s happened a few times.”

Harry had never been rough with him, not really. He’d been rough with Ginny, and she’d really liked it, but he wasn’t going to think about her right now.

Harry reached between Draco’s legs to probe his arsehole. Fuck, it was so hot to touch him like this, to touch the most private part of his body.

Moaning, Draco arched into his fingers and sucked the vibrator into his mouth, his gaze challenging. He placed Harry’s free hand on the vibrator, and Harry, catching on, thrust the vibrator in and out. He wanted to gag Draco with it, but he didn’t.

Draco moaned again, his mouth full and dripping. Harry continued playing with his arse, testing it. When he was able to push a fingertip in, he took back the vibrator and pressed it to his hole.

“You need lube,” Draco said, sucking in a breath.

“Right.” Harry Conjured lots of lube, not caring that his sheets were dirtied. There was so much slick that he had a hard time gripping the vibrator.

“I’m ready,” Draco said. 

“Okay,” Harry said, wiping his hands. He kissed Draco’s stomach, then his thighs, as he rotated the head of the vibrator against his hole. Then he pushed it inside, and he wanted a spotlight, he wanted to cast another _Lumos_ and point his wand at Draco’s arse. He wanted to see Draco’s flesh yield and wrap around the toy.

“Yes,” Draco said, the word drawn out. 

Slowly, he worked the vibrator in and out. He watched Draco for any sign of pain. “All right?”

“_Shut up_.”

Harry quickened his hand, and Draco was now taking most of the vibrator. Draco’s cock jerked wetly; he was almost fully hard. 

“I’m going to suck you.” He took Draco partially into his mouth, not wanting it to be too overwhelming. 

Draco cried out and thrashed. “Yes, Harry, _yes_.”

Harry dragged his tongue up and down his shaft, and the coordination took effort. His wrist was at a weird angle. He sucked on the head, tasting so much salt, and his own cock pounded. 

Draco rocked into him, fucking himself on the vibrator. He was panting and seemed zeroed in on Harry sucking his cock. 

“Fuck, I’m ready,” he said, then shuddered. “I’m _too_ ready.”

Harry came off his prick. “Want me to stop?”

“I want you inside me.”

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

He gently pulled out the vibrator. He wanted to be inside Draco as well. He wanted it so much, but he didn’t want to fuck it up. He kissed Draco, hard, desperate. He kissed him until he panted again, until he clung to Harry. 

“Please,” Draco whispered.

“Yes.” Harry fumbled with his wand, his hands too sticky, and he cast another lube spell just to be sure. He crouched in place, his heart hammering. He still had his glasses on, and it was awkward, but he didn’t want to hurt Draco because he couldn’t see. 

“Please.”

Harry entered him, and the lube made it clumsy. He _slipped_ inside, too quickly, and Draco jackknifed. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Harry said, not knowing if he should pull out.

“Don’t move!”

“Fuck.” Harry trembled. It felt so damn good.

Draco tugged his cock, his eyes twisted closed. It was obvious he was in pain. It was obvious he wasn’t enjoying himself.

“We can stop,” Harry gasped.

“Fuck you.” Draco slowly relaxed against the bed. He opened his eyes, and they were very bright. “Okay, you can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

Draco fisted his hair and kissed him angrily. “_Move_.”

Barely breathing, Harry pulled out a little, then thrust back in. Oh, _fuck_. Draco’s arse clung to him, and it was so hot and velvety. It felt _wrong_. It felt like the best thing that ever happened to him. 

“Oh, Harry.” Draco’s knuckles were working against his stomach.

“Good?” He thrust again. 

Draco’s mouth fell open. He looked dazed; he looked like he didn’t know how to feel. 

His arse was opening, relaxing, and Harry found he could quicken his hips. He moved gently, staring into Draco’s eyes, watching for every glimpse of emotion. 

“Harry.” Draco clawed at his back. “_Harry_.”

“Draco.”

“Fuck me.” He covered his face with a hand. “Fuck me.”

“You want it faster?”

“Please.”

Harry thrust quickly, or as quickly as Draco’s arse allowed. He bit Draco’s shoulder, needing something to anchor him.

“Yes!” Draco was blabbering. He sounded like he was crying, but his eyes were dry when he dropped his hand. “Harry. Fuck me. Please. Merlin, _please_. I need it. I need you.”

“Draco.”

“Please. I want you. Oh, god, I love you.”

Harry was losing control too soon. He felt it in his bollocks, the overwhelming sizzle of orgasm. He was going numb with it.

“I’m going to come.”

“Do it.”

Harry thrust as hard as he could, wanting to be deep, so deep. He was coming and coming, and he wrapped his hand around Draco’s neck, not tightly, just holding. 

The next thing he was aware of was how his glasses dug painfully into his cheek. He was still on top of Draco, their stomachs slick with sweat and lube. He was softening inside him. 

“You’re crushing me.” Draco pushed on his shoulder. 

“Sorry.” He pulled out and flopped on his side. 

Draco stroked himself desperately. Harry tried to help, but Draco slapped his hand away.

“No, it’s better this way.”

Harry kissed his damp neck and shoulder. “You’re so sexy when you wank yourself.”

“Fuck,” Draco cried, thrusting into his own hand. He came with a low groan, his mouth open again, and Harry was mesmerised. There was so much semen. 

Summoning the courage, Harry bent down and licked some of it off Draco’s stomach. He let it linger on his tongue, forcing himself to taste it. 

“I’m not in love with you,” Draco gasped, his cock still twitching.

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry took him into his arms. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t want to scare you off.”

“I’m not scared.” He kissed Draco slowly, dragging his tongue. He wanted Draco to taste himself. 

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed. 

They lay together for a few moments in silence.

“I can’t believe Sirius was gay,” Harry said. “It makes me sad that he never told me.”

“Maybe he wasn’t. My mum doesn’t know everything.”

“She sounded very sure.”

“She was fucking with the Weasleys.”

“I suppose.”

“If he was gay, I’m sure he’d be delighted that we just buggered in his mum’s house.”

Harry laughed. “It almost makes me want to take her portrait out of the attic. I could put her in here and force her to watch.”

“She’d love that,” Draco said, but then he turned somber. “I was overstimulated . . . that’s why I didn’t want you to touch me at the end.”

“I figured.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t want you.”

“Draco.” Harry kissed his cheek. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did you like it?”

Harry laughed and pulled him closer. “_Yes._”

“Brilliant.” Draco was smiling.

*

**Epilogue**

“Sir, this isn’t a post office.”

“I know that!” The mustached man bristled. “I’m in a hurry and I need this parcel sent as soon as possible.”

“Signal an owl.”

“No, it needs to be priority.”

Draco’s smile didn’t falter. “Like I said, sir, this isn’t a post office. We don’t send letters or parcels.”

“This is a _service_ desk, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“I am in a terrible rush, and I just need you to send this parcel for me. I will _pay_ you.”

“Sir, I cannot accept your personal items.”

“Fine! I will take my business elsewhere!”

“Very good, sir,” Draco said. “I suggest Diagon Alley.”

The man stormed away.

“He wasn’t very nice, was he?” TJ said.

Shrugging, Draco went into the back room to continue cataloguing the Lost and Found. TJ _did_ have a point that it should be organised as much as possible. 

“Draco, you have visitors.”

He set down a stack of fedoras, his stomach twisting. He really hoped it wasn’t his parents. They had been to his flat a couple of times now for tea, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they wanted to see where he worked.

Harry, Granger, and Weasley waited for him at the desk. TJ looked utterly star-struck.

“Come to bother me again?” Draco said.

Weasley made a show of rolling his eyes. “We’re inviting you to lunch again for some bloody reason.”

“How’s your shift?” Granger asked.

Draco eyed Harry and licked his lips. “Better.” Not having his virginity anymore was really working out for him. He was practically an _expert_ at buggering now.

“You get off soon, right?” Harry’s cheeks were pink.

“Mr Weasley, can you autograph my magazine?” TJ held up an edition with Ginny Weasley and Viktor Krum on the cover. It read: QUIDDITCH HEARTTHROBS ENGAGED! “I know this isn’t you, but it is close enough for me!”

“Sure,” Weasley said, and signed over Krum’s face. 

Harry glanced at the cover, and his expression was mild. “They look happy.”

“Yes, they do,” Granger said.

Draco sneered. “Krum looks like a troll.”

“I kind of fancy his nose.” Harry shrugged.

“You would,” Draco said, but he secretly agreed.

TJ was breathing at them. Draco glared and he disappeared into the back room.

Weasley put his arm around Granger. He nipped her nose and growled playfully. 

Harry held Draco’s hand and whispered, “You can say if you don’t want to have lunch with us again.”

Draco watched as Granger laughed and tried to escape Weasley. “They are growing on me, just a little.”

“Good.” Harry glanced around before kissing him.

Draco grabbed his shirt, not letting him get away. He returned the kiss deeply and said, “Told you I’m brilliant at customer service.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [H/D Tropes Exchange Fest 2019,](http://www.hdtropes.tumblr.com) posting August & September 2019! Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it!


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